


These Violent Delights

by BlueKiwi



Series: Silvered Lightning [1]
Category: The Dresden Files - All Media Types, The Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-05
Updated: 2013-03-08
Packaged: 2017-12-04 09:58:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 41,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/709481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueKiwi/pseuds/BlueKiwi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A relic from Shakespeare's most famous tragedy has somehow found its way into the heart of Sin City---too bad no one told Harry, Elaine, or Thomas that they would have to pull off moves worthy of 007 himself to retrieve it. [Post-Cold Days, AU]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_I fear too early, for my mind misgives_   
_Some consequence yet hanging in the stars_   
_Shall bitterly begin his fearful date_   
_With this night’s revels, and expire the term_   
_Of a despisèd life closed in my breast_   
_By some vile forfeit of untimely death -- I.IV_

oOo

In hindsight, there was no possible way it could have ended well.

That had crossed Elaine’s mind the moment they entered into the baccarat bar and Harry, rather than play up his role as a silent and stoic bodyguard, made some sort of off-color remark about Ocean’s Eleven (the original because really, where was the justice in comparing Sinatra to Clooney?), earning him the suspiciously bemused glares from the handful of high rollers surrounding them. For a few seconds, the situation had become uncomfortably tense and only Thomas’s easy charm and Elaine’s quick playful rebuttal had managed to prevent them from getting kicked out of the casino and hotel on their first and only night there. As it was, the scam was going to be hard enough to play out without frying every bit of technology they came into contact with - Harry’s natural tendency to revert to being a smartass didn’t help matters.

 _Diplomacy_ , Elaine thought for the fifth time that evening, tapping her still-full glass of champagne impatiently and keeping a close eye on the comings and goings of the gamblers in the room, _will never be Harry’s strong suit_.

It had taken some convincing to make sure Harry didn’t burn down one of the dozens of Las Vegas hotels and casinos, especially when the innocent concern from the Paranet turned out to lead to an increase of deadly activity in the heart of Sin City itself, all stemming from a single but strange artifact. Honestly, it had come as no surprise to anyone that it eventually started to unravel, least of all to Elaine who had heard rumors of abnormal activities along the Strip for years now through her contacts in the Southwest.

But then again, she had known more about the source of the rumors than she would ever admit to anyone.

“This is the most ridiculous thing I have ever done,” Harry groused, absently tugging at his sleeve, and Elaine tried not to smile at the petulance in his voice.

“I can name plenty of others if you’d like,” she suggested, turning her attention back to the baccarat table where the stakes were slowly becoming appallingly high (she wondered how long Thomas could continue to bluff his way through the game). They each had their roles here, part of a game that would inevitably fall apart since Harry was involved. It was one of a few things they were hoping would work in their favor. “Besides, you get to be 007’s bodyguard for the night. That’s a decent enough role.”

“Since when did James Bond need a bodyguard? I feel like I should be a Russian mob boss instead, lurking in a corner, drinking pinot noir and spouting classy anecdotes.”

Elaine’s lips quirked upwards. “I suppose you’ll have to make do with comic book quotes and Coke for the night.”

Harry crossed his arms, still obviously uncomfortable without his spellbound duster. “I really don’t see how this can be amusing. You at least get to be the Bond girl. I’m pretty sure I got tricked here - why did Thomas get to be James Bond?”

“I wear this dress better than you.” She flashed him a smile. “And do you know how to play baccarat?”

“No, but I’m a pro at Go Fish.”

“That’s insidiously clever. Imagine the countless droves that would come to Vegas to play high-stakes Go Fish.” She raised her glass to her lips to mask her next words. “Do you think it’s any of them?”  
Harry was silent for a moment; then: “With the dagger? No. They’re just obnoxiously rich. Nothing spooky about that at all.”

She laughed. “You almost sound jealous.”

“Never stopped you from fawning over me.”

“Tch. Wisdom comes with age.” She paused and then winked, insolent. “For some people.”

“Ouch.” He looked around at the glitz and glamour of the lounge and through the haziness created by smokers at the baccarat table. “Hell’s bells, you’d think the faeries were behind this.”

 _No, not faeries._ Elaine glanced at him. “Because of the dagger? Tch, the common curse of mankind, Harry.”

Harry snorted and rolled his eyes, turning his attention back to where Thomas had easily been able to charm the other players at the baccarat table. She had to admit that she was impressed by how quickly they had been able to infiltrate the high-rollers circle or, rather, how quickly they had been able to do it without getting caught. Unfortunately, that usually meant that something was about to go horrendously wrong or the dagger was long since gone from Vegas.

_That damned dagger._

According to the stories and rumors circulating on the Paranet, the dagger that was at the center of the case was one of the most famous in history - the dagger that Juliet Capulet had used to kill herself at the end of Shakespeare’s famous tragedy. Most practitioners were confused about its origins – the dagger had never seemed to pop up in supernatural circles until recently, following a mysterious string of deaths around Las Vegas. How such a small thing had caused such fervor was beyond many of them, especially considering that the dagger had little to no history other than what Shakespeare and those who tackled the story had written.

She sighed, dumping the contents of her glass into a nearby potted plant. _Stars, I wish_ I _didn’t know that much about it._ At least the case hadn’t taken them clear across the Atlantic to search the Italian countryside.

As soon as the game drew to a close - and judging by the dismayed and disgruntled silence at the table, Thomas had been able to use his charm to distract the others at winning - Elaine and Harry approached the table.

Ignoring an appraising look from a golden-haired young man at the head of the table, Elaine settled her champagne flute next to Thomas’ hand. He turned to look up at her, flashing a winning smile that nevertheless had a predatory gleam to it. She ignored the rush of want that accompanied that smile, especially when Harry “accidentally” jarred Thomas’ seat and then pretended that someone else was as fault by glancing innocently at the ceiling. Either way, Thomas seemed to get the hint and the smile became a shade self-deprecating. “Yes, darling?”

Harry laughed (or choked - one or the other).

Elaine’s smile was brief and cold – fitting for the part she was supposed to play, and it didn’t take much acting to pretend that she was unimpressed by Thomas’s attempts at flirting. “Having fun, Mr. Raith?”

“I can think of better things to do in my spare time.”

Harry kicked the back of his chair again and then whistled nonchalantly when he received a gray-eyed glare from the vampire.

“Good to hear. You owe me a drink.” She tapped the edge of her empty cup pointedly. Thomas looked from the cup, and then back over his shoulder at Harry who was, once again, failing to actually _look_ the part of a bodyguard. He took the hint and then glanced back at the table, throwing the other players an utterly devastating smile that caused more than one of them to flush and shift uncomfortably.

“Gentlemen, it’s been a privilege but beauty calls.”

Another sharp kick.

As soon as they were out of hearing range of the high-rollers, Thomas cut Harry an irritable look. “You could at least try the whole subtlety thing.” Harry only shrugged as they reached the bar, and Thomas rolled his eyes before ordering a gin and coke. “Fine. But you should know I’m far too pretty to be on the other side of a jail cell which, knowing our luck, we’ll probably see before tomorrow morning.”

“What did you find out?” Elaine asked pointedly, quickly cutting Harry off before he could protest that he hadn’t done anything yet. Thomas glanced over at her and she could have sworn his eyes paled a few shades before he turned away and began casually swirling the glass sitting on the bar counter. Elaine pretended not to notice Harry’s frown - she had already made her point _very_ clear from the moment he told her that Thomas would be in on the case that despite _his_ confidence in the vampire, she, under no circumstances, would trust him farther than she could throw him.

“Enough,” drawled Thomas after a moment, keeping his voice low. “The dagger’s here in the hotel. The kid who thinks he has a chance with Miss Mallory here is spreading the word among the high rollers to drive the price up - it’s pretty exclusive, invite only.” He shook his head as he brought the glass of amber liquid to his lips, smirking in faint amusement.

“Do you think he has it?” Harry asked, frowning. Thomas shook his head.

“Pretty sure he’s just the messenger. But whoever _does_ have it probably doesn’t know what they have except that it’s worth a hell of a lot of money. Probably a plain old vanilla mortal. Might as well pain a giant target on the back of his head.”

“Think you can get into the game?” Harry asked. Thomas laughed dryly.

“Probably, but then I’d have to win. Word keeps spreading like it is, it’s not just going to be Degas collectors and rich playboys looking for the dagger. It’s going to be a lion’s den...” he lowered his voice, “...if anyone else finds out.”

Elaine pursed her lips, looking back over the laughing and gossiping crowd in the bar. “There’s no history to this dagger at all - even if it does have power, why hasn’t anyone made a fuss over it until now?”

A thoughtful silence descended, and Elaine knew that they had wondered the same thing a dozen times the moment they had gotten entangled into the case. When the bartender asked if he could refill her glass, she shook her head, straightening up. “Unless...”

“Unless it’s a scam,” Thomas finished. He tapped at the edge of his glass pointedly, and the bartender hurried to refill it. “The thought crossed my mind, Miss Mallory.”

Harry nodded. “Same. Or it could actually be the dagger used by the girl who inspired Shakespeare.”

“Doesn’t explain what’s so special about it...other than literary significance and nostalgia.”

“I guess we’ll find out.” Elaine didn’t want to think that those practitioners had lost their lives over a simple, non-magical artifact while the supernatural power players tossed their weight around. She took a tip out of her purse and laid it down on the counter, careful not to reveal too much of the electrified chain that lay coiled at the bottom of the bag. “I assume our best bet is to find the dagger before it gets to the game then. Any leads for that?” Thomas and Harry shared looks, and she rolled her eyes. “A lead that one, doesn’t involve evacuating the building because of a fire or two, reenacts any plot to a James Bond movie.”

A long pause.

“I’ve always been a fan of Dalton.”

“That’s heresy.”

“No, saying Lazenby would be heresy - this is just common sense.”

“It’s like I don’t even know you.”

Elaine looked up at the ceiling and let out a long-suffering sigh and, as the conversation dissolved into pop culture quips, walked away from the bar - the dagger was drawing the attention of the high rollers and that’s where the conversations were going to be. It wouldn’t be too difficult to Listen in and find out exactly where the game was being held. It was a small start, but a start nonetheless. She owed it to a lot of people to get that dagger, regardless of its price.

She owed it to Allison.

“Excuse me.”

There was a gentle touch on her shoulder and only years of self-restraint kept her from sending a jolt of magic down the offending person’s arm. Instead, she turned quickly, narrowing her eyes, and found herself face-to-face with the same golden-haired young man from the baccarat room. He was giving her a smile that Elaine decidedly did _not_ like, one that was a pale imitation of the grinning charm that a certain White Court vampire wore. She raised a questioning eyebrow at him.  
Roles.

“I saw you back at baccarat with the new kid.”

“Oh really? How observant of you,” she murmured, frowning. New _kid_? She doubted that he was barely past college age.

The cool reply didn’t seem to faze the young man. He just stuck his hands in his pockets and struck a jaunty pose that Elaine supposed younger and more impressionable women would have fawned over. “I’ve never seen you all around here before. Is he...you know...?”

Elaine couldn’t believe she was standing there having that conversation. “‘Is he’...what exactly? The thing with context is that you usually have to finish the sentences in order for the other person to understand.” The stranger’s smile slipped almost imperceptibly, and Elaine half-turned away from him. For some reason, she was reminded of that kid Warden back in California, although she admitted that it may have been an insult to the other wizard. “Listen, I’m flattered, but I really don’t think-”

“Do you play? Baccarat, that is.”

“I don’t gamble unless there’s something worth gambling over.”

The stranger’s smile returned in full force and Elaine had to think that his flirting skills were atrocious. “Oh, then you haven’t heard? There’s always something worth gambling over in Vegas. Especially in the Bellagio.” He held out his hand with such blazon confidence, Elaine’s mood immediately switched from unimpressed to mildly amused - she knew this type, had come across versions of it often in California. More than that, if had been playing high stakes baccarat, it could have very well meant he knew something about the game for the dagger. “I’m Jason, by the way.”

 _Jason?_ Impossible. A coincidence. He gave her an expectant look and that same smile, and Elaine resisted the urge to return his eagerness with a snarky retort that would have done Harry proud-

“Miss Somerset, I see you’ve met Jason.”

-which immediately turned into resisting the urge to groan.

She pinched the bridge of her nose as Thomas sidled up to both of them. While it may have been obvious in other circles that golden boy Jason was usually the center of attention, next to Thomas, he paled in comparison and from the look on his face, he realized this with something akin to alarm. He looked from Thomas to Elaine, lips turned down in an expression of defeat he hadn’t yet admitted to himself. Elaine thought him to be either highly stubborn or extremely obtuse.

“Good game back there,” Thomas said, clapping the other man on the shoulder. He nodded over at Elaine who gave him a look to freeze hell over. “My colleague says it’s a nasty habit, gambling. It’s a wonder I was able to get her to come to Vegas with me for the weekend.”

“Vegas gets people to do strange things,” Jason replied with a wan smile.

“Sometimes people change their minds under the right circumstances.” She tilted her head at Jason and smiled just enough to get the pouting look to dissipate from his eyes. She shot Thomas a quick warning glance before continuing, “Can you convince me that there’s something worth gambling over tonight?”

Thankfully, Thomas understood the silent message and simply crossed his arms, for once not sneaking in a comment laced with innuendo or some obscure spy movie reference.  
Jason looked from Thomas to Elaine and then back again, and Elaine caught the moment when he realized that he knew something his apparent rival did not. It was the pride and self-importance that ignited a spark in his eyes and his stance became less wary, and more relaxed. “Well, there are rumors, of course.” He leaned forward conspiratorially, and Elaine caught Thomas rolling his eyes just behind him. “Let you in on a secret - you don’t find the best loot on the floor or even in the high-rollers rooms. You have to know the right people.”

 _Hell’s bells, this is a horrible spy movie_ , Elaine thought. Turning to leave, she shrugged at his comment and said, “I take that as a no.”

“Well, there is a pretty rare Renoir making the rounds. Vases from the Ming Dynasty too.”

Elaine narrowed her eyes, ignoring Thomas’s widening smirk just out of Jason’s peripheral vision. “My friend says that there’s something else here, something more valuable than an old painting or vase. Would you know anything about that?”

Thomas’ smile vanished. She didn’t care.

Jason fidgeted, but tried to hide his sudden discomfort by adjusting his heinously-expensive tie. “You’re talking about the dagger. Are you looking to buy in?”

“I might if it’s worth it.”

Jason looked askance at Thomas, the wheels in his head undoubtedly turning. Elaine figured he was trying to see what the connection between them was - ‘colleague’ was vague enough to warrant suspicion. He probably remembered Harry too.

Strange folks, Elaine mused, came to Vegas frequently enough that it shouldn’t have been a problem, but the enigma of the silly dagger was enough to raise suspicions about everyone and anyone. She wondered briefly if there had been others searching for it, people of less reputable intentions or disguised creatures from the Nevernever who had heard about the deaths. At this rate, they’d _all_ be fighting over a trinket with an ostentatious back-story.

“I’ll have to ask the seller,” Jason finally admitted, adjusting his cuff links with a cough. “Is there a place I can meet you later to go over the...er, minor details?”

Elaine’s returning smile was enigmatic, and she brushed by him. “How about this - I’ll find you.” She then walked away, not bothering to wait for Thomas to catch up. Bruises, she thought, were easier to deal rather than flirtatiously asking ‘pretty please’. She needed to clear her head anyway.

A moment later, Thomas joined her, an amused note in his voice. “You’re good. Very intimidating.”

“Spare me the compliments. Where’s Harry?”

“He said that you probably had a clever plan of your own that you wouldn’t share with the class. Guess he was right.” She knew he was smiling - she didn’t even have to turn to see it. They continued towards the lobby which was, despite the hour, crowded with guests and tourists. Many of them were staring in wonder at the patchwork of glossy-colored glass that floated just above the center of the lobby, a sculpture that Elaine, in her annoyance, thought looked nothing more than a bunch of a rainbow-hued jellyfish splattered in the air.

“What does he plan on doing?” she asked Thomas. He lifted a shoulder in a careless shrug.

“Going back to the source.”

Elaine stiffened. “The source was-”

“I know.” Thomas halted, stuffing his hands into his pockets and looking out at the crowd with a bored expression. Nearly everyone who passed by him - men as well as women - did a momentary double take with a spark of blatant desire in their eyes. He didn’t seem to notice. “He hopes that maybe her sister might have something that could help us.”

She frowned at him, following his gaze to same vague area on the other side of the lobby. It was disconcerting and unfailingly frustrating trying to solve both a series of murders and the location of that dagger. “A double cross?”

“I guess it depends on how much they believe in the dagger’s myth.”

“No.” She shook her head and began to walk away. “It depends on how much they’re willing to bet _other_ people believe in it.”

_That’s why he kept it hidden all of these years...damn it, Arthur. You should have kept it secret._

“You know,” Thomas drawled, easily matching her quick stride, “for someone who keeps implying that the dagger is irrelevant, you sure seem determined to get it. You know more than you’re letting on.” When she didn’t answer him for several moments, he snorted. “Harry thinks he can trust you.”

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “What about you?”

He gave her a wicked smile that was offset by the hard warning glint in his eyes. “Miss Mallory, let me just say this: in regards to your feelings towards me and that double cross, I’ll say that my opinion of you is very much mutual.”

Elaine didn’t even pause.

“Well, as long as it’s a mutual understanding.”

oOo

Allison Nguyen’s apartment always smelled like warm caramel popcorn and smoke from the pier and, even on the dreariest of Santa Monica afternoons, always seem to find some sort sunlight to brighten the colorful apartment.

Elaine had already declined a glass of iced tea and was now watching Allison absently tickle a gray-and-brown ferret that very much looked as if it would rather be sleeping than providing its owner with amusing distractions. She hadn’t said much outside of polite conversation, fussing about the house and trying to be a good hostess while Elaine simple sat and waited for her nervous energy to run out. The only sound now was of the few fans circulating sweet-smelling warm air throughout the apartment and the old radio in the corner playing something that may have passed for music.

While waiting, Elaine had taken care to ward the door with a quick but complex spell - she had done her research, knew what sort of trouble the girl was most likely in. If anyone or anything decided to interrupt their tête-à-tête, they would find themselves on the business end of a nasty electric current. Elaine didn’t much feel like playing on the safe side.

After a few more minutes and irritated snuffles from the ferret, Allison sighed and reached for a glass of iced tea, the ice cubes in it having long ago melted in the heat. “I really shouldn’t be nervous, should I? This is just...what? A coincidence?” She blushed a little bit at the dismissive tone of her own voice, the tint of pink visible even beneath her sun-bronzed skin. “I’m sorry.”

Elaine shook her head with a small smile. “Don’t apologize. I’m here to help, after all.”

Allison looked flustered. “Well, it’s such a weird situation...”

“Believe me, I’ve seen worse.” She sat forward in the mismatched armchair, propping her chin in her hand. “Has anything else happened since I was last here?”

The girl shook her head vehemently. “No, no. In fact, I think I’m just being paranoid.”

“Trust your instincts,” Elaine replied seriously, narrowing her eyes slightly. “Better to be overly cautious than not cautious enough.” She watched as the ferret began chewing on the edge of one of the knitted throws that lay haphazardly on the arm of the couch, emitting tiny snuffled growls. “Do you know what they’re looking for?”

Allison shook her head slowly, threading her fingers together nervously. “Nothing that someone else who practices wouldn’t have. Probably less.” She looked around the room, as if searching for inspiration. “Some charms, a few rare pieces of jewelry, a grimoire I bought from a friend but there’s nothing really hard-hitting in there...” She trailed off into a worried silence and Elaine gave her a comforting smile.

“Does anyone in your family practice?”

The girl bit her lip. “My sister, sort of. She’s more into figuring out the mechanics than actually doing anything though. My mom was too before she remarried. But that was years and years ago. My stepdad didn’t approve.” Elaine could see that she was less agitated now that she could talk about something familiar rather than the dozens of unknown variables. “He’s very conservative, but he’s nice. He let me and Mo keep our dad’s last name even after...well, after. But we couldn’t practice magic, not in the house. I didn’t start properly until I went to college.”

Elaine’s brow furrowed thoughtfully, putting the pieces of the girl’s life together in her mind. “Friends?” At this, Allison grinned, the first true genuine smile that Elaine had ever seen on her. She looked maybe fifteen when she smiled.

“Surf rats and beach babies.”

The smile was contagious - Elaine laughed. “I’ve had my fair share of those.”

The ferret on the couch sniffed angrily at being left out of the joke. Allison only petted it, but didn’t stop it from turning her throw into an entree. “I like it better this way.” She stopped and her smile dropped slightly. “I _liked_ it better this way. What if something happens to my friends because of me? My family? Jason?”

Elaine was silent - what could she tell the girl? She knew from experience that not everything turned out right, that losses were inevitable in the grand scheme of things, and that life was never as fair as you wanted it to be. It was pain and it hurt. It had taken years for her to learn that, something she was still learning - mental and emotional scars that never quite healed could always tear open at the slightest memory.

No one was invincible.

“Right now,” she finally said evenly, looking out the window to bustling and sun-drenched streets, “I’m going to find out what’s targeting you. Hopefully, it won’t come to that.” Allison blinked at her, large almond-shaped eyes so full of trust it was almost painful.

“Do you promise?”

oOo

The casino floor was an explosion of flashing lights, bells and amiable conversation, and the heavy smell of cigarette smoke that no amount of circulation could completely get rid of. But, beneath the laughter and clinking glasses and the sharp whisper of cards being dealt, there was an undercurrent of fanaticism and desperation, built on lies made of champagne and poker chips. Some people laughed at their luck, entertained by the burnished golds and reds and greens and the alcohol running through their blood. Others chased after it, their smiles becoming more and more grim with each hand, each spin of the roulette wheel.

Elaine hated casinos. They were a collection of her phobias in gilded relief – too many people, loud and congested, the unsettling nuance of greed thick and cloying in the air. Years ago, she would have frozen at the idea of entering into the building, running away rather than dealing with the suffocation of the gambling aura. It was still difficult, even as she and Thomas wound their way around the clatter and ringing of machines and the laughter of the patrons, but it was more bearable than it would have been a decade ago.

Still, her muted agitation made itself known as they passed the slot machines, the reels suddenly jerking slightly or spinning too fast from the presence of magic.

“You’re as bad as Harry.”

Elaine gave Thomas a sidelong look, enough to glimpse the miniscule smirk on his face. “I don’t like casinos.”

“Do they offend your sense of common decency?” There was a laughing note in his voice. “Or is it the company?”

Elaine arched an eyebrow at him. “I’d rather deal with the casinos than the present company, if that’s what you mean.”

“Ouch. That almost hurts my feelings, Miss Mallory.”

“And yet you’ll live.” She gestured absently. “Harry’s up ahead.”

They came across him standing near one of the exits, arms crossed and looking irate. Thomas let out a low whistle. “Let me guess – you found her and she wouldn’t talk.”

Harry rubbed the bridge of his nose. “No, she wouldn’t. Apparently, I look too intimidating to be trustworthy- what?” Thomas only grinned at him and Elaine coughed to hide her smile. Harry rolled his eyes at both of them. “I’m here all week. While I was off getting the evil eye, did you two manage to find anything helpful?”

“You’re charming when you’re angry,” Elaine said with a wink. Then her playful manner sobered as she looked around the casino. “We found a connection to the seller. As much as I hate to admit it, Thomas was right - one of the players from the baccarat room seems to be the middle man. He said he’d get in touch with us later tonight.”

Harry glanced at Thomas, who nodded in agreement. “He seemed spooked. I got the impression that everyone who’s asked about the dagger wasn’t as pretty or pleasant as Miss Mallory.”

Harry shot Elaine a look, the edge of his lips tilting up in a smile that he couldn’t quite hide. “Good cop, bad cop?”

“I can’t always let you have all of the fun,” Elaine replied, her expression exasperated. “Besides, if the seller _is_ involved with the murders, then he or she would have reason enough to be on the edge.” She rubbed at her arms as if she were cold or a nervous gesture, but in reality, she couldn’t shake the disconcerting feeling that skirted around the edge of her senses. It was similar to the feeling of being watched, and she didn’t like it all. There were already so many things on the line, so many things that she had promised that she’d take care of...

Belatedly, she noticed Harry giving her a concerned look and she gave him a reassuring smile. “You both have jackets. I have to freeze for the sake of male distraction.”

“Gloria Steinem is contemplating murder somewhere.” He still looked concerned, but Elaine only shook her head with the clear message of _I’ll tell you later_. Thomas, she thought, was doing a good job of pretending not to notice, and the memory of his words from only minutes before came back to her. She shrugged it off though - let the vampire believe what he wanted to believe. It wasn’t going to change her objective, and it wasn’t going to change anything between her and Harry.

“Where is she?” she asked, looking at Harry expectantly.

“Blackjack table.” He snorted. “She actually automatically assumed I didn’t have any money to gamble with.”

“Whatever would have given her that idea?” Thomas drawled, earning himself a glare from the taller man. He held up his hands in a placating gesture. “Alright, alright. So what’s the plan?”

Elaine looked across the casino towards the blackjack tables. She was too far away to see anything clearly, but she did catch sight of a slim, dark-haired woman dealing a hand at one of the tables. It was enough, and it was a start. She looked back at Harry and Thomas, pursing her lips in thought. “I’ll see if I can talk to her. I might come across as less...” here, she smiled gently at Harry, “...intimidating than some people.”

“What about the middle man?”

Elaine lifted a brow pointedly. “What about him? He’ll find me and even if he doesn’t, the seller will.”

Harry crossed his arms, his brow knitted in contemplation. “I don’t like it, Elaine. If this is attracting the kind of attention I think it is, it’s probably not a good thing for you to be off on your own.”

 _This is a really bad time for your chivalry to pop up_. Before she could question him, Harry held up his hand and shook his head – he must have seen the annoyance in her eyes. “Both of you must feel that. The minute we walked into the casino - something’s wrong.”

Elaine caught Thomas’s eyes flash silvery-grey and she turned away from both of them with a sigh. Of course it would have been too much to assume that things were going to go smoothly - they _were_ being watched. The only question was if it was the seller or some third party who was also after the dagger (or, better yet, some group completely and utterly unrelated to the dagger at all, but existing only to make life far more difficult than it had any right to be).

“I’ve felt this before though,” Harry admitted after a moment, a grim shadow appearing in his eyes. Thomas frowned, and Elaine glanced at him over her shoulder.

“Where?”

Harry looked remotely frustrated for a moment. Then he sighed, rubbing at his eyes. “A horror movie convention a long time ago.”

Silence.

Then Thomas groaned and cursed vehemently. Elaine, having heard this story before, narrowed her eyes, sweeping her gaze across the casino, at the gamblers and the workers and the machines and the lights. Through it all, that same desperation continued to seep.

A phage. Of course.

Why couldn’t anything ever be simple?


	2. Chapter 2

_There’s no trust_  
 _No faith, no honesty in men; all perjured_  
 _All forsworn, all naught, all dissemblers_. -- _III.II_

 

oOo

Before they even reached the hotel room door, Thomas darted out in front of Harry and Elaine with a wave of his hand, shooting them a flat look and removing the DO NOT DISTURB sign off of the door handle. “Let’s _not_ hex the lock, shall we?” He fished the electronic keycard out of his pocket, swiped it into the lock, and then backed into the room with a half-hearted warning: “Watch your step, kids.”

Elaine flipped on the lights as she stepped into the foyer, frowning at the signs of debauchery that were illuminated a moment later. She had actually been expecting worse, but then again “worse” in her mind had been a bunch of drained bodies littering the floor. She did give the various bottles of alcohol on the dining room table a dismissive look, and sidestepped some clothes that had decided to take up residence on the floor. She deadpanned, “It’s very charming, this life you live.”

“I try my best,” Thomas replied with a flash of too-white teeth that could have been a smile. Elaine gave him a completely unenthusiastic look and turned towards Harry, who was maneuvering around the room with the ease of someone who was used to that sort of mess, shaking his head in exasperation. He disappeared around the headboard that paraded as a divider in the room, and then returned, shrugging into his duster. Thomas scoffed a little. “I should have thrown it out the window.”

“And then you could have gone to fetch it.”

“You look ridiculous.”

“Thank you for your unwanted opinion.” Harry opened up one of the nearby drawers, and pulled out a hotel directory. As he flipped through it, he called over his shoulder, “Ever done a detection web?”

Elaine nodded, wondering what he was getting at. “Several times.” She looked at him quizzically. “You’re not looking to do the whole hotel, are you? That could take at least two hours, especially if you take into account the casino.”

“We’ll just have to work fast. Phages are nasty.” Harry’s smile was more grim than it was playful. “I’d rather not have one on the loose here.”

Elaine shook her head and passed by him, placing a hand briefly on his arm as she did so. “May I try something?”

Without waiting for an answer, she walked over to one of the multiple outlets in the room and then knelt down on the carpet, tucking her legs beneath her. She reached into her purse and pulled out two bracelets – one made of dozens of tiny interlocking copper-and-jade charms and the other an austere series of black wooden beads.

She was aware of both Harry and Thomas giving her curious looks, but for the moment she shut that out of her mind and instead concentrated on piecing together a simple tracking spell, slipping both bracelets onto her wrist. It was a spell that she had used countless of times since she had taken a page from Harry’s book and started her own detective business in California. She was good at adapting it, changing it, molding it to fit various circumstances. Finding things, especially people, was her specialty – finding a phage, though, was something entirely different.

Taking a deep breath, she placed her hand over the outlet and closed her eyes. The trick with the spell this time was not to cause so much magic to surge through the wiring that it overloaded the circuits - she wasn’t sure what the phage fed on, whether it was fear or lust or anger or greed, but a sudden blackout would ignite any of those and ruin the entire spell. What she needed was to concentrate on what it was going after currently, and to fuel a detection spell that large with restrained magic was going to take a subtle twist to her usual spell.

Magic, Elaine had always thought, was a current that ran through everything, even things that were extraordinarily mundane. It could be as subtle and unobtrusive as a mild shock to something as devastating as a single destructive bolt of lightning, pure and wild and dangerous. Like anything potentially deadly, it always depended on how it wielded and how it was shaped. Harry may have been able to let loose with rows of powerful attacks, one after the other, but that would never be her forte – a constant hurricane of magic did little good, and was hardly appropriate for all situations.

Tiny sparks of light dripped from the copper-and-jade bracelet while the dark beads grew almost uncomfortably warm as she drew her will in. “ _Sheni, kefa, ini, ihem_.” The spell spiraled outward, into the outlet with only a brief buzz that caused the lights to flicker momentarily. It wasn’t quite a stomach-dropping sensation as the spell sped through the hotel, but it was enough to make Elaine glad that she was kneeling on the ground. She must have wavered slightly because she felt a hand, warm and familiar, on her shoulder. Harry.

“Elaine?”

She shook her head, staring at something neither of them could see.

“One second...” she murmured, her tone distracted. The rush of currents that made up the hotel - a cacophony of emotions and magic and darkness - flashed through her mind, each one as brilliant as the next. It was a tangled web of lights that made up the Bellagio, floor by floor, the most mind-boggling collection on the lowest floor as thousands of people passed through the lobby and the casino and theatre. Her spell passed through walls that were drenched with emotion, a magic all of their own, alighting gently on the gossamer-thin stands and then passing on.

There was darkness, of course, just as she had assumed. Las Vegas was, in the end, a hub of the baser human desires - it wasn’t called Sin City for no reason. But those were lingering fragments and nothing was powerful enough to-

There.

“It’s here...” Elaine abruptly said, her voice sounding even to her strangely far off. In her mind’s eye, she saw the inky darkness seeping from suite only a few floors above them. It didn’t so much as block the web of lights as draw them in, like a black hole. She couldn’t tell what emotion the phage seemed to feed on - everything was inexorably drawn to it. Anger. Greed. Jealousy. And everything had a strong, sweetly poisonous undertone of lust, enough to make her breath hitch momentarily.

The darkness slid across her mind, oily and cold and putrid, riding along the same current that she had used to discover it. It sparked a primal fear in her, the same instinct fear that she had lived with ever since the day her entire world has gone up in flames. Brittle darkness - it was going to find her and it was going to suffocate her.

 _No, no._ Dimly, she felt Harry’s grip on her shoulder tighten and she nearly fell back into him, trying to cut off the remnants of the spell. It sputtered uncertainly and then died, a candle being snuffed out. She sat back on the floor, eyes still shut and her breath slightly ragged from the exertion of the spell. Her copper-and-jade bracelet still rained sparks onto the pale carpet, but at least the beaded bracelet was no longer hot to the touch. Instead, it was disturbingly cold, as if she had stuck it in a snowdrift for hours.

“Are you okay?”

Harry’s presence by her side, strong and painfully familiar, was reassuring, and it only took Elaine a moment or two to collect herself, drawing her thoughts out of the murky darkness that the presence of the phage had plunged them into. She nodded wearily. “I’m fine. You’ve fulfilled your nightly quota for prince in shining armor.”

“I can’t help if you swoon over me every time I enter a room.” She heard the laughter in his voice. “Nice bracelets, by the way.”

Elaine snorted, banishing the rest of her thoughts to a far corner of her mind. “Unlike some people, I’d like to be able to cast ritual magic without wasting an entire afternoon doing research.” She waved her hand dismissively. “I found the phage or at least the place it keeps returning to. It’s about five, six floors above us.”

Harry looked over his shoulder at Thomas, who was absently loading the Desert Eagle he held in his hands. “What do you think?”

Thomas frowned and then he shrugged, an elegant roll of the shoulders that Elaine thought was unnecessarily distracting. She looked away as he replied in a thoughtful tone, “It’s messy, but I’ll see. Be back in a minute.” Tucking the gun into the waistband of his pants, he nodded briefly at both of them before vanishing out the door, already pulling a cellphone from his pocket.

The moment he was gone, Harry helped Elaine to her feet. “Still don’t like him?”

Elaine smoothed out her dress, gray-green eyes flashing irritably. “I don’t trust him, no. And I still have a hard time figuring out why you do.” She held up her hand as he began to protest. “It doesn’t matter. I said I’d help you with this case regardless. But you remember what I told you about him, right?”

Harry narrowed his eyes at her, but finally sighed and nodded. “Noted.” He paused and then quietly added, “In his defense, you have to remember Justine.”

Right. The girl.

Elaine looked away then, the images from before still fresh in her mind. It was far too much like using her Sight - the impressions that she had received from the phage had burned, and it took a fine bit of self-control to keep from shuddering once again with Harry still watching her. So instead, she took a few steps away from him, towards the bottle-covered table.

“It doesn’t look good, Harry.” She quickly but calmly told him about the phage - she had no time to be sympathetic towards his vampire friend.

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose. “That could mean a million things. For all we know, it just really likes that Brad Pitt movie.”

“ _Harry_.” Elaine couldn’t keep the exasperation out of her voice.

“Okay, okay. I’ve dealt with phobophages before, but this one...I don’t know.” He rubbed at his chin contemplatively, and began to pace back and forth. “Someone with talent would be able to put it together if the phage focused on one thing, but if it goes after all seven - well, we’re in a casino. No one’s going to be the wiser if people start acting a little more frantic.” He paused. “Thomas is right - it’s messy. Not _their_ usual style.”

Elaine crossed her arms. “Harry, my feelings about Thomas aside, there was a stronger undercurrent of lust coming from that area. Maybe not from the phage itself, but enough from the suite to make me think that there is a good chance the White Court _is_ behind this.” She watched his expression carefully, saw his carefully blank expression. “But you knew that already or else you wouldn’t have asked him to come.” When he didn’t respond, Elaine shook her head with a quiet sigh. She should have known.

Harry may have been one of the more honest people she knew, but that didn’t mean he didn’t know how to keep secrets from the best of them.

“Damn it, Harry. If he knows something…” She sat down on one of the chairs at the dining room table that was parading as a closet, absently moving a stray piece of hair behind her ear. She wondered if she should have just told Harry everything. She had suspected he had known a little about the dagger - maybe even knew a little about the Montecchis - when he contacted her.

But the more she was drawn into the case, the more she shied away from revealing more. From the moment Harry said one Thomas Raith would be joining them in Nevada, Elaine had unconsciously determined to work along her own path. It wasn’t fair to Harry to keep secrets - hadn’t she learned this a long time ago? But it was always inevitable – she was fine with other people trusting in her, but there were so few she could say the same of. She didn’t like two-way streets – it was a surefire way to lose everything.

She noticed Harry take a step towards her, that same unspoken familiarity between them that would have at least lowered any defenses she had, even if he couldn’t make them vanish.  
“Elaine…”

And then the door swung open and the moment was gone. Thomas reentered into the room, his expression so carefully casual that Elaine knew that something was wrong.

Ignoring the brief frustration that passed over Harry’s face, she rested her chin on her hand and watched him with the same indifference that had thrown so many people off in the past. He must have realized she was watching her because he spared her a quick frowning glance that she only replied to with a nonchalant shrug. “It’s messy?” she echoed his words from before.

“It’s not who I thought,” Thomas replied, and although Elaine would have like to know who this mysterious suspect had been, he had already turned towards Harry. “I think we might be on our own for clues here.”

“Alright then,” Harry said, loosening his tie and tossing it in the general direction of the couch (it fell somewhere not quite near it). “Lets get this show on the road – we need to talk to the sister and we need to find the Fincherphage, the seller, and the dagger, preferably in that order before anyone gets killed.”

“They probably aren’t together.”

Harry looked back at Thomas. “Why would you say that?”

“Because I’ve been working with you for too long. It would never be that easy.” Elaine had to smile at the look Harry gave him, followed by the subsequent realization that it was the truth. Thomas leaned against the door frame, grinning. “We could just split up, Harry. It won’t kill us. Besides, the longer we wait here, the worse it’ll get.”

Elaine watched expectantly as Harry rubbed the back of his neck and frowned, obviously deep in thought. It was already close to ten, and she had given up on the idea of possibly finishing the case in a few hours. Phages, she thought, were an extremely inconvenient variable.

“Fine. I’ll go after the phage. Thomas, you and Elaine talk to Allison’s sister and find the middle man.” He must have noticed the disgruntled surprise that passed over both of their faces, and he held up his hands in mild defense. “Time’s a-wasting people. Tick tock.”

Elaine had an inkling what he was trying to get at, and when she gave him a quizzical but flat look, he only gave her a wry smile in response. With that, she understood. She didn’t particularly _like_ it, but she understood.

There was no way Harry was going to let her go off on her own with an unknown phage running around the hotel – he was too damn chivalrous (besides, she noted dryly, it wasn’t as if she had the best track record of staying out of trouble whenever she worked cases with Harry). But he also knew that she wouldn’t trust Thomas to go after the seller or the sister, not with the White Court potentially behind the phage that lurked in the hotel. Why he thought it was better to put the two of them together was still a mystery to her, even if it was by default, especially if he thought either of them was going to go out of their way to protect the other. They were too suspicious of each other to work out.

Thomas was already voicing his opinion. “Ignoring the fact that you going off to battle a phage will just call down the fire department gods on us, I really don’t think I’ll work well with another wizard detective.” He side-eyed Elaine. “Especially one who probably has no qualms about using me as an electrical outlet.”

“There’s no ‘probably’ about it,” replied Elaine, rising to her feet and dropping her bracelets back into her purse. “It doesn’t matter. We don’t have time.” She nodded at Harry, although the dark glint in her eye promised that he would be receiving a piece of her mind once this was over. “Go take care of the phage. We’ll go find Allison’s sister and Jason, and meet up with you in an hour by the fountains.”

“We’ll take a power outage to mean that you need backup,” Thomas added, swinging open the door and holding it open for Elaine, every line of his body purposely mocking. She gave him a caustic look and then glanced back over her shoulder at Harry with a very clear message in her eyes: _We are going to have a long talk about your choice of friends_.

As she passed Thomas, she wasn’t petty enough to give him a pointed static shock from the door, but the temptation still remained. Before the door closed behind them, she could have sworn she heard Harry sigh.

Oh well.

“You honestly think she’ll talk to you?” Thomas asked as they made their way down the stairs - despite Elaine’s skill, she doubted that she had enough patience to think technological-friendly thoughts while in an elevator. “She’s probably already on edge if she knows why her sister was-”

“I’m aware of that.” She didn’t look back at him. “But it’s not going to hurt to try.”

“Hmph.”

She didn’t care what his opinion was - she knew the girl would talk to her. The only thing was that Thomas couldn’t be anywhere near her when she did. First of all, the incubus was far too distracting as it was - once he opened his mouth, there was no chance Elaine would be able to work around the walls the girl had put up. Second of all...

She pushed open the door leading from the stairwell into the casino, bombarded immediately by the flashing lights and sounds of the first floor. She pursed her lips against the tiny flutter of panic at the sheer number of people in the room, a fleeting remnant of those days after the fire, and pushed away that niggling at the back of her mind that was the presence of the phage somewhere in the hotel. It had been ages since the last attack - she wasn’t about to let this of all things get to her.

Stopping just beyond the door, Elaine regarded the casino with a flat, appraising calm. “Stay here.”

Thomas let out a blunt laugh. “Like hell I will.”

There was ice in her voice, sharp and cold. “I’m not arguing with you about this. You’re not scaring her off - stay here until I’m done talking with her.”

He looked as if he were about to argue, but then he stopped. He casually slouched against the wall and crossed his arms - with the suit on, there was something innately statuesque about his posture. “Fine. Carry on, Miss Mallory. _Do_ be careful.” There was poison threaded through his voice and the warning inflection - sweet and smoky and far too alluring - and Elaine glowered at him. Between the presence of the phage and the tiny flickers of trepidation that resulted from the crowd, she did not need a White Court vampire’s deadly charm added into the mix.

She turned her back on him, feeling his disapproving and distrusting glare on her back, and weaved her way easily through the crowd. It was a small thing, but the grace kept that tiny shred of nervousness at bay. She had to focus on the case, or her nerves were going to shatter into a million pieces. In front of Harry, it was easy to pretend. But as for the vampire...well, it took one person wearing masks to spot another. She couldn’t afford to show any weaknesses.

As she approached the blackjack table, she pushed all of those concerns aside, focusing only on the task at hand. Worry about everything else later - right now, there was a job to do. She took in a deep breath to steady herself, reinforcing it with a bit of will, before quietly stepping behind one of the handful of gamblers at the table. It must have been a cold table - many of the players were getting up, muttering to themselves about refilling their drinks or checking out the fountains at the front of the hotel.

Or it may have been a push against their wills, a faint suggestion that they never would have realized came from someone else.

Elaine watched the dealer as she shuffled absently, either unconcerned about her suddenly deserted table or oblivious to the fact. She was cool and efficient, her gestures clipped and no sign of the friendly encouragement that marked the other dealers around the casino floor. Her jaw was taut and there were dark circles under her eyes that no amount of makeup or flattering light could conceal.

As the last man left his seat, the girl finally looked up, her face strangely blank. Looking around in confusion for a moment, she finally met Elaine’s calm gaze and blinked. Then, as recognition descended, her dark eyes widened, her face paled several shades beyond what was probably healthy, and she went completely slack-jawed.

Elaine only smiled at her sadly.

“Hello, Margaux. I’m here about Allison.”

oOo

Margaux Nguyen looked nothing like her sister.

This was Elaine’s first impression of the other woman. Whereas Allison was short and tanned and dimpled, her sister was pale, willowy, and serious-looking, observing the world behind a pair of vintage-style glasses. Currently, Elaine was the focus of that dark-eyed scrutiny, but she didn’t flinch - other than avoiding eye contact, she only waited for Margaux to finish her assessment. _That_ was extremely important.

Especially since the knife she held was currently poised at Elaine’s throat.

“I don’t trust you.”

“I gathered that much from the knife.” Elaine smiled a little to settle the other woman’s nerves rather than to make light of the situation. A knife pressed into one’s neck was certainly not a situation to make light of anyway. “I’m not here to hurt you. Your sister sent me. She was worried about you.”

“You’re not invited in.”

Elaine shook her head with a sight. “No, I don’t think I would be.” She held out her hands slowly to show that they were empty. Honestly, if she wanted, it would have been a simple thing to incapacitate the dark-haired woman. As it was, Elaine didn’t blame her for immediately suspecting her. Allison had admitted that Margaux had more talent in sensing magic than she did and although Elaine concealed much of her ability from prying Warden eyes, those sensitive enough to notice would have come to the conclusion that she was competent enough in wielding very dangerous magic.

With Allison missing, it was enough reason to suspect anyone and everyone.

 _At least I didn’t barge in through her wards_. “I just want to talk about the dagger.”

Margaux’s eyes widened by a fraction, but she quickly covered it up by pressing the knife further into Elaine’s skin, and she felt something warm trickle down the hollow of her throat. Damn. What a tableau this would make if anyone so happened to look down out their apartment window. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Margaux, listen to me.” There was an edge of steel and irritation in Elaine’s voice now – she didn’t _want_ to have her throat sliced open, even if the other woman was understandably on edge. “I’ve dismantled your wards and I’ve made sure no one in this area can hear what we’re saying. I understand that you’re on edge, especially with the current situation with your sister, but I can swear to you that I am not going to harm you.” She narrowed her eyes and added, “But I am going to be _extremely_ put out if you cut my throat right here.”

To her credit, the only sign of agitation the other woman showed was a slight tremble in her knife-wielding hand. After a few breathless seconds, she lowered her weapon slowly and cautiously, taking a quick glimpse of the thin trail of scarlet that ran from the base of Elaine’s throat to the neckline of her t-shirt, staining it - proof of mortality. She didn’t sheath the knife right away - _smart girl_ , Elaine admitted - but kept a white-knuckled grip on it as she let out a breath. “Do you know anything about my sister?”

“No, but I’m going to find out.” It was a fact, not an empty statement. Margaux must have sensed it because her shoulders dropped slightly, and suddenly she looked much more exhausted and worried than she had let on only moments before.

“I’m sorry, Miss Mallory. I’m just-”

“You don’t have to apologize.” Elaine’s smile had returned, although it too seemed to carry some of the weariness that had descended. “You know about the dagger, don’t you?”  
Margaux nodded. Although she was tall, she was still two or three inches shorter than Elaine, and suddenly looked both younger and older from the stress that lined her face. Elaine felt a pang of sympathy for the other woman. “It was...well, it belonged to our stepfather’s family. They had passed it down through the family for centuries. They say that it is - was - Romeo’s dagger, the one that Juliet used to commit suicide.” She shook her head, as if trying to prove a point in some silent argument in her mind, and fell silent.

“Stories can have a lot of power,” Elaine gently replied, her expression thoughtful. Harry had told her as much once the rumors had reached him. She supposed he didn’t suspect that she’d directly act right away, but if the problem kept growing, the Wardens were going to get involved. With other forces already deftly moving behind the scenes, it would have been disastrous - Allison had already pleaded with her not to tell them. The fact that the rumors existed at all was a sign that something had gone terribly wrong.

Elaine refused to regret not telling Harry anything more.

“Is there anyone else who could possibly have found out about the story to fuel the rumors?” Allison had been quite adamant over the fact that no one in the family ever revealed those things, but obviously there was a mole somewhere. “Or that such a thing even existed?” Margaux shook her head slowly.

“Not that I know of. Ally-” Her voice caught here, but she quickly calmed herself. “Allison believed in the story. She thought it was very...fanciful, I suppose, to think that our stepfather’s family descended from one that inspired that Montagues or Capulets.” Her words were very quiet and somber. “You must understand, Miss Mallory - it is very...uncommon for those who aren’t blood descendants to know about the dagger. Even if we know about it, we can never inherit it. He says...” She stopped abruptly and looked down at her hands.

Elaine raised a pale eyebrow. “Yes?”

“Dad says that the dagger is cursed.” Margaux looked alarmingly pale in the pale green wash of the streetlights. “Mercutio’s curse on the families, Juliet’s blood, Romeo’s dagger - it should all be nonsense. There’s nothing logical about it at all.” Frustration was clear on her face, but there was something else too that didn’t sit well with Elaine - something that reminded her of desperation, fear. She wasn’t sure if it was related to the dagger or the young woman’s personal life, but she knew prying would only make it worse.

Instead, she reached up to wipe the blood off her neck, wincing a bit at the sting. Margaux murmured another apology, and Elaine just shook her head with a quiet laugh. “Forget about it. Who gave you the knife?”

“My girlfriend,” came the quiet reply, and even in the darkness, Elaine saw the faint blush that tinged the young woman’s cheeks. “Pen says after what happened to Ally...”

“Does she know? About the dagger?”

Margaux shook her head with a tired sigh. “No. Sworn to secrecy, remember? She was just worried.” The blush was still there, and Elaine tilted her head to the side, observing the shorter woman with a frown. Then she shrugged off the thought - she’d put it together later when she had some time to review what didn’t add up in this whole case.

“Before I go, may I ask you a question?”

Margaux blinked tiredly at her. “Go ahead.”

“If Allison is missing, why are you still here in Nevada?”

She watched as the question sunk in - Margaux’s pale face immediately became a mask and her fingers curled slightly at her sides, as if resisting the urge to curl into fists. She turned away after a moment, distracting herself by fishing her keys out of her purse. “It’s really none of your business. I have to go. Good night, Miss Mallory.” The door to the apartment building swung open, and Margaux disappeared behind it and with her, any good explanation.

Elaine peered at the door thoughtfully. There were dozens of pieces to this puzzle. Two young women, a dagger, a curse, and several murders leading directly to...what, exactly? She’d never know unless she knew more about the dagger itself, but information about that was even more elusive than the killer. It was going to take time to figure everything out.

Quietly, she turned on her heel to head back to her hotel, lost in her own thoughts. She was going to need some help on this one.

oOo

“Please. I don’t know anything else.”

The quiet serenity that Elaine had come to associate with Margaux had been shattered. Her hands trembled so violently that several cards fell to the table. The woman had always been pale, but the moment she had caught sight of Elaine, her pallor had become sickly, the dark circles under eyes even more pronounced.

Elaine was alarmed - she hadn’t expected her to react so badly, not after what Harry had told her about his encounter with her. The other woman looked around two seconds away from completely falling apart at the seams. Stars, what if something had happened to Allison since- no. She couldn’t think in terms of “what if” right now. It would haunt her every movement, cast dread on every decision, that possibility of failing before she had even started.

“Margaux,” Elaine said softly. “Margaux, I need you to calm down.”

“Please. _Please_ , just leave me alone.” She looked around nervously and even though her eyes were very dark, Elaine had the feeling that her pupils were dilated to the point of only leaving a thin ring of dark color around them. “I can’t tell you anymore- I just want to be left alone. I don’t care about the dagger anymore. Just...go away. Please, please.”

Elaine shook her head, leaning slightly over the table. “No, I can’t. I promised your sister.” As she said these words, she continued to take in Margaux’s reaction. This was straight paranoia and if Harry was correct, only seemed to have set in when she approached her. The shaking. The paleness. Even if she took into account what had happened with Allison...she paused. No, that couldn’t be right.

But it was the only connection.

She decided took a stab in the dark - if she was wrong... “Margaux, where’s Jason?”

“I don’t-”

“Did he come to ask you about the dagger?”

Margaux shook her head vehemently. “No, no, no. He wouldn’t- I don’t know a Jason.” She dropped the rest of her cards onto the table, hearts and spades flying everywhere. They were attracting some attention, and Elaine could see that at least one guard nearby was giving her a suspicious look. Their eyes met for a brief second and the man raised a walkie-talkie to his lips, starting to approach the table. Elaine narrowed her eyes and concentrated briefly; a moment later, sparks flew from the device and the man dropped it with a surprised yelp.

She turned back to Margaux, who had yet to notice the security guard. “I need to find the dagger, Margaux. Where is he?”

The other woman’s mouth gaped open and close silently, her eyes brimming with tears. Then, “He said-”

Everything happened at once, and Elaine felt it before it even completely hit. She staggered against the table as the oily feeling that she had felt from her net before swept over her, her breath catching in her throat as the room tilted at a dizzying angle. She heard Margaux let out a short cry of despair before the rest of the spell caught up to them.

The lights in the casino flickered abruptly. Dealers paused in the middle of their shuffling, gamblers let out a confused murmur, the security guards looked up at the lights suspiciously. Then, there was a series of sharp pops as sparks and smoke came flying from slot machines, cell phones, pagers, and any other modern technological device in the room. More than a few people let out startled shrieks as they backpedaled away from the smoking machines or dropped objects onto the ground as if they were suddenly scalding hot.

The room plunged into absolute darkness.

Elaine heard Margaux take in a breath to let out a scream that never came. There was a flash of something darker than the blackness around her, something cold and powerful and wrong, and-

_Stars…_

As shrieks filled the room, interspersed with the commanding voices of guards telling everyone to stay calm, Elaine was only slightly aware of another presence at her side. She still leaned heavily against the blackjack table, trying to calm down her rattled nerves. Darkness. People everywhere. Blind. Damn it, damn it, damn it. She clenched her hands into fists. "I told you to stay put."

"Obviously I didn't listen." Thomas's voice came from just over her shoulder. "You felt it too."

"Hard not to feel a sledgehammer attempt at magic," Elaine replied, taking in a deep breath. _Don't panic. Don't panic._ "Something grabbed Margaux."

Thomas was silent for a second, but she could have sworn he was frowning.

"We have to find her."

"I know." There was something off-color about the tone of his voice, but Elaine ignored it for now. She already knew what had happened, and it wasn't going to get any better, not in the darkness. From the looks of it, whatever power the phage had been soaking up had completely blown the transformer that powered the hotel. Damn it all.

She straightened up and clenched her jaw. "I don't suppose you can see?"

"I'm not Clark Kent, Miss Mallory."

 _Of course not_ , she thought dismally, closing her eyes against a pounding headache. They had to find Margaux. They had to find Jason. And if the phage was here, what had happened to Harry that quickly? Around her, the patrons of the casino and the hotel were fighting back a climbing panic as the emergency lights refused to flicker, all of them lost in the darkness and chaos of decadence. She couldn't use magic without drawing attention to herself which left only one option, one that she was reluctant to use considering the source of the blackout.

It wasn't as if she had much a choice.

So with a shaky breath, Elaine opened her eyes to the Sight.


	3. Chapter 3

_This day's black fate on more days doth depend:  
This but begins the woe others must end. -- _ _III.I_

oOo

The first time it happened, Elaine had been twelve.

It had been some sort of lesson plan that Justin had concocted while Harry was home with strep throat and, at the time, she had been unsure of what the entire purpose of literally getting dragged to the mall during the holiday season had been. She hadn’t protested though – she had long ago learned what protesting meant in their household.

Her wrist had already been sore from Justin’s iron grip on it as he none too gently pushed her towards the railing overlooking the main plaza of the mall, demanding that she use magic that she had never attempted before to see "the way things really were". The longer it took for her to concentrate, the greater the pressure on her wrist became.

When she had finally managed to grasp how to use it, the overwhelming vision – because why would Justin attempt to use something subtle when he could break her in with a vast crowd – had sent her to her knees with a sob of panic, too distraught to even realize that her wrist was broken. It was chaos, pure and complete – while it had been her first real awakening to know that magic was everywhere, it also meant that she could see that there was darkness and anxiety and fear in the same places. Some people were brighter and stronger than the sun, but there were so many others drowning in a cacophony of uncertainty, fear, and rage.

Years later, she vaguely remembered that Justin had knelt by her, whispering, “You can never forget this.” When Harry asked later about her cast, Justin had made up some story that she couldn’t remember and she didn’t recall ever telling Harry the truth. It didn’t matter anyway – he had been right. Even though it had been what felt like a lifetime ago, she still recalled every single wonderful and horrible thing she had seen that day.

Whenever she used the Sight now, that would always be the first thing she thought of – the swirl of poignant and painful images, the reminder that nothing was ever what it seemed, and the throbbing ache in her wrist from something far away, agonizing and real.

What she saw now reminded her of that first glimpse with the Sight - it illuminated the room, of course, but it also threw into stark contrast the hundreds of people within the casino. People nearly skeletal with desperation, others burning red and bright with greed, even more chained and bound and gagged by their terror or lust or envy – the phage’s sickening spell had laid bare every single one of the vices to her.

There was also a clear trail of oily black mire seeping into the floor, leading from the blackjack table and towards the lobby.

She clenched her jaw, looking past a woman seated at one of the slot machines, ghostly pale and alarmingly thin, dark liquid dripping from her mouth and eyes. She felt her nails dig into the palm of her hand, and she focused on that physical pain as the supernatural ghosts of the Sight seared themselves into her mind.

“I found it. There’s a trail leading to the lobby.” She didn’t dare look behind her – she didn’t need to look at Thomas and add whatever he was conflicted about on top of everything. She knew that she needed to get out of the casino, as the confused din kept growing, people blindly either trying to find the exit or remaining firmly rooted in place.

She wound her way through the casino, Thomas following just behind her. She was able to sidestep most of her vision, keeping that pain in her hand as an anchor until they finally emerged into the darkened lobby. There were fewer people there, but they at least were aware of the general direction of the main entrance and therefore exit. Most were making their way to the lights from outside near the end of the lobby, but Elaine’s focus was on the dark trail that led to the conservatory just beyond.

A steady stream of people leaked out of the conservatory, growing thinner and thinner until Elaine was sure that most had filed out. With the pain fading to a dull ache in her palm, she shut away the Sight and the twisted vision vanished as quickly as it had come, leaving only a throbbing pain in her head. She rubbed at her temple with a weary gesture before glancing behind her at Thomas’s dimly-lit figure. “The conservatory.”

He nodded once, chrome flickering in his eyes despite the dull light.

Elaine briefly reached out to Harry, trying to sense where he was in the hotel and wondering how in the world the phage had gotten past him so quickly. _Unless the phage hadn’t been where I thought in the first place_ , Elaine thought with a frown – the spell that had descended on the entirety of the hotel had obviously short-circuited a transformer. Elaine didn’t know the layout of the hotel well enough to figure out where _that_ would have been.

The glass ceiling of the conservatory allowed the bluish evening glow of Vegas to descend through the otherwise darkened displays. The opaque light fell upon hundreds of lush flowers, intricately woven around bubbling fountains and towering sculptures. The last few stragglers were leaving, murmuring quietly amongst themselves about the strangeness of the blackout.

“It’s fast,” Thomas remarked, giving voice to Elaine’s own thoughts about how the phage had managed to sneak past all of these people with a – hopefully – unwilling victim. “Is it still here?”  
Elaine looked around at the now-deserted conservatory, frowning. After a moment, she reached for the long thin chain around her neck, pulling out the small silver pentagram that had been hidden beneath her dress. Lifting it, she focused a small bit of will into the pendant, and a soft greenish-white glow fell onto the conservatory. It made no difference if anyone saw – hopefully, at the most, they’d think she was holding a flashlight or were too panicked to tell the difference.

“I can’t tell,” she admitted.

Thomas didn’t comment on why she had stopped using the Sight, and she supposed that he had worked with Harry long enough to know that it was one of the less pleasant aspects of being a wizard. Either way, it saved them from a probable argument.

They made their way around the main display that was dripping in roses and hydrangeas, the sound of three identical fountains masking their footsteps. It was strange, Elaine noted, that a backup generator hadn’t come on, or that the power would still allow for the motor running the fountain pumps to stay on. Unless these fountains ran on secondary generator...

She abruptly stopped and cursed beneath her breath, whirling around a split-second after Thomas, who was already spinning to meet the shadow of the phage as it launched itself at them from a decorative arrangement of flower pots. She dropped low to the ground as it jumped past Thomas and sailed easily over her head, disappearing into the main display in an implosion of white and crimson petals. It had barely missed her, dodging past Thomas in effort to...knock her down? She didn't know - it was gone now anyway.

“Shit,” Thomas muttered, already taking off after it. In the darkness, the monster was hard to see – black shadow against black shadow – and Elaine couldn’t risk lighting anything on fire lest the whole hotel go up in flames.

She heard its claws skittering across the marble floor, and threw up her hand in an impervious gesture, wincing as the phage collided with a shield suddenly blocking one of the exits. Without a focus, it was shoddy work and the place of impact sparked brightly, briefly lighting up the surrounding area. The phage let out a growl of anger as it nearly bounced back into Thomas, who had already slipped the Desert Eagle from his waistband.

Again, the area was lit with three flashes – gunshots.

Over the scuffle and the flow of the water, Elaine heard the surprised shrieks of those still in the lobby as the echo of the gunshots traveled through the cavernous conservatory and lobby. The phage tried to race towards one of the other exits, but Thomas was as fast, if not faster, than the phage and jumped in front of it, blocking its exit once again.

Unless Elaine wanted to cross over the fountains and risk dampening her magic, the only way to get to the phage and to Thomas was to go around the full length of the main display. There was no time for that – the phage had already doubled back around, racing for the third exit, a shadowed blur against the panicking crowds of the dim lobby.

She didn’t think she could try the shield trick again so instead so looked around for inspiration – and got it in the form of one of the sculptures of a giant robin perched on the far end of the room, its wings impressively spanning a good eight feet.

 _It’ll have to do_ , Elaine thought, glancing up at the cables that held the sculpture up. They were surprisingly thin, probably to make it seem as if nothing held it up at all, but she suspected they were still thick enough to keep it from crashing to the ground.

Until now.

It took most of her concentration to keep the spell razor-thin, sending the wind magic spiraling towards the robin. It took even more to keep it aimed where she wanted it go. Wind wasn’t meant to be directed this way, but it was far less obtrusive than if she had sent a miniature lightning bolt overhead. The spell slammed into the cords, a thirty-foot-long needle of compressed air that sliced through the spun metal as if a giant pair of scissors had done the work.

The robin teetered, the ropes snapped, and the flowers and metal came crashing down to the floor, directly on top of the phage.

Just as Elaine doubled over, trying to blink away the spots dancing in her vision, she heard the sound of running footsteps from just beyond the conservatory.

“Hey!” an authoritative voice called over the sound of a crashing sculpture. Near the columns leading the lobby, Elaine caught a glimpse of a security guard running into the room. “What the hell is going on in here?”

The phage shuddered and hissed from beneath the ruined bird sculpture. Elaine was still on the opposite side of the main display - she couldn’t even see Thomas, and she hoped that neither could the security guard. She moved further into the shadow of the main display, staying hidden from the security guard but trying to keep an eye on the phage.

_Harry, where are you?_

She whispered a bit of will into her pendant against, that same soft light falling over the surrounding greenery. One of the fountains, water still bubbling up several feet into the air, was less than three feet away. In the darkness, it made her a clear target for the phage and for the security guard, but she was hoping that would be the case. The guard wouldn’t notice Thomas holding a gun and the phage would find easier prey than the bodyguard. Hopefully.

She heard a series of sharp cracks, a wail of pain, and then the sound of claws scraping along the marble floor of the far end of the conservatory. She could see the security guard spin in the direction of the noise, but slowly turn his attention back to the glow of light from her necklace. Briefly, she saw the dark hide of the phage disappear around the corner of one of the shops, vanishing down a hallway. Gritting her teeth, she snuffed the light. She could hear more guards approaching - the police would be showing up soon too.

Elaine sank to the ground near an overgrown rosebush, glad that her dress was dark enough so that the security guard was still groping about blind.

“Hey Jack, did you hear gunshots?”

“I don’t know. Looks like one of the birds came down - could’ve been the ropes snapping.”

“Your flashlight still busted?”

A pause. “Yeah. One hell of a blackout, huh?”

“Hey, maybe it’s like what they did in that Ocean’s Eleven movie. You know, the new one?”

Elaine fought the urge to roll her eyes, and quietly slipped further along the display, away from the guards which, unfortunately, meant further away from wherever the phage had disappeared to. Without light and without a chance to catch her breath, she wasn’t going to be able to find it at this rate. Nothing short of a trail of bodies or an explosion would lead her to it. She waited again, closing her eyes as she listened to the security guards murmur only a few dozen feet away.

She felt a presence at her shoulder and flinched before turning to frown at the shadow that had seemed to instantaneously appear next to her. “So glad you could join me,” she whispered dryly.

She caught a flash of teeth in the darkness. “I was a bit preoccupied, Miss Mallory - are you sure you didn’t want that sculpture to fall on my head?”

“It would have been an added bonus.” She looked behind her - the guards were still examining the fallen bird, orange petals scattered everywhere. “You see where it went?”

“Home base, I’m guessing.” He nodded at the fountain. “It tried to knock you in.”

“It’s being strategic,” Elaine confirmed, lips pressing into a thin, thoughtful line. “It needs better directions now.” She paused, ignoring the wave of dizziness that replaced the adrenaline that had abruptly vanished. “They’re both in trouble.”

Thomas was silent for a moment before she saw him nod in the darkness. “The suite?”

She didn’t trust him - this whole thing screamed White Court from the moment she felt that core of lust and desire that permeated the area where the phage kept returning to. Harry may have had his reasons, but Elaine didn’t know what those were and she personally had no reason to have faith in what the vampire said or did.

But Margaux was in danger now and, by extension, Jason as well. She ran her hand through her hair, letting the knot of frustration bubble in the pit of her stomach. Stars and stones, she was going to kill Harry.

“We’ll have to take the stairs.”

“Well, it’s not as if I’ve been running around all night or anything...”

She wanted to give a sarcastic reply, but settled for shrugging her shoulders, unsteadily rising to her feet, a rush of nausea quickly unsettling her nerves. Between the detection spell, the Sight, and dual-spells against the phage, it was starting to add up to be a little much - there were only so many different spells she could cast in a row before it started to take its toll, and the shields were created without a focus...

“Are you up to this, Miss Mallory?”

 _It’s just a headache_ , Elaine thought, closing her eyes for a moment. “I’m fine. Are you planning on grating my nerves this entire time?”

He chuckled. “No, only most of it.”

They passed through one of the doors furthest away from the guard. As the door clicked shut behind them and left them in an absolutely pitch black hallway, Elaine wondered if she really was going to have to use her amulet for the rest of the night as a flashlight. There really was only so much energy she could put into it before she exhausted herself - she was hardly a battery for it to run off. And, she thought as they head towards one of the emergency stairwells, it wouldn’t do much good finding the seller and the phage if she was going to need to take a nap immediately before.

It certainly didn’t help running up over thirty flights of stairs. Elaine wasn’t exactly out of shape - even if she wasn’t in a constant heap of trouble like Harry, being a wizard and dealing with nasty supernatural creatures on a regular basis meant that she had to run more often than she would have liked. And if magic wouldn’t take someone or something down, she had learned to fight back the old-fashioned way (as if magic itself weren’t old-fashioned). What Justin had done had guaranteed that she would refuse to be backed into a corner with no way out again.

Even still, that did not exactly mean trying to track down a phage by heading up countless of numbers of stairs. By the time they reached the thirty-first floor, Elaine wanted to rip the seller’s spleen out from sheer irritation. There was still silence from Harry’s side of things (really, where he could he have vanished to? She refused to think that something terrible had happened to him), the lights still had yet to come back on, and her legs felt as if they had been set on fire. She at least knew how to control her breathing, but she swore that she was going to incinerate the seller to hell and back for this entire night.

“Is this one of the floors you saw?”

She leaned against the wall, holding up the amulet and casting a green-white light on the plaque marking the floor number. Damn, he didn’t even sound out of breath. “One of several...but yes. This is the first.”

“Do you need a break?” She glowered at him pointedly and, to her surprise, he gave her an apologetic smile. “Sorry, sorry.” He swung open the door leading to the darkened hallway and they were immediately greeted by a blast of abnormally cold air – Elaine winced and repressed a shiver as they stepped into the silence. For some reason, it was darker here than even down in the casino and there was a chill in the air that had nothing to do with the drop in temperature.

She held up her amulet, but the light seemed to be swallowed up in the darkness, extending only a handful of feet down the hall.

“I take it that’s not supposed to happen,” drawled Thomas casually. She caught a glimpse of movement from him out of the corner of her eye and heard the telltale click of the hammer being pulled back on his gun.

“No, not really.” She peered down at the floor, noticing the scuff marks and a trail of something that looked black in the poor light. “But it looks like we lucked out.” She hoped the dampness on the carpet were traces of blood belonging to the phage and not to either Margaux or Jason. There were already enough victims in the case as it was.

Elaine gestured for Thomas to remain silent for a moment, and Listened to the sounds of the hall. Other than the sound of their breathing, there was absolutely no other noise – odd for a popular hotel. Either everyone had already made their way outside because of the blackout or, in the worst scenario, no one was capable of leaving.

She straightened up, trying to quell the pang of guilt that ran through her. It would do no good regretting things now.

Just as she took the first steps down the hall, she heard a strange buzzing sound from overhead. Both she and Thomas glanced up in enough time to see the lights in the hallway flicker momentarily, and then gradually began to glow brighter – they weren’t nearly at full power though which meant that the backup generator had finally been able to restore a fraction of power to the hotel. The lights cast a weak but pleasant glow onto the richly-decorated hall, scattering some of the darkness, and onto the stain on the floor.

Elaine let her pendant drop, and she tucked it back under her dress. It was still unnervingly cold in the hallway, but at least she was able to see the stain trailing along the carpet was the black blood of the injured phage and not the deep crimson of human blood.

“It didn’t make a detour,” Thomas noted, gesturing to the remarkably direct line that ran down the length of the hall. She gave him a curious look and then brushed it off – he wasn’t trying to reassure her that the phage hadn’t gone after innocent guests. Instead, she moved towards one of the doors, checking the handle – locked. Not surprising. “It probably knows we’re after it by this point...”

Elaine would have replied if she hadn’t suddenly heard voices from the stairwell just behind them. Thomas’ brow furrowed as he turned towards the door.

“Worst time for a blackout, eh? How far were you in the hole?”

“Not as bad as some of the folks around here.” The man’s muffled voice wheezed. “Can’t stand that the elevators are down.”

“Can you put up a veil?” Thomas asked quietly, eyes still on the door. Elaine paused, trying to grasp together the currents of the magic required to render them invisible and silent – but it was too much of a strain. She really had been throwing around too many complicated spells that evening – with only seconds until they were found out, she had neither the energy nor the focus to put together something intricate on the fly.

She shook her head with a frustrated curse.

“C’mon, Dave. The exercise is good for you.” The door to the stairwell clicked open.

Elaine cut Thomas a sharp look, emphatically gesturing at the Desert Eagle he still held in his hand – as if they wouldn’t look guilty enough with the phage’s blood staining the floor. There was no time to vanish behind one of the multitude of locked doors and they would have had a hard time explaining what they were doing uninvited on a floor that usually was only accessed via elevator only. “We don’t have enough time to disappear.”

“You may be right...”

He suddenly wrapped his arm around her waist, all serpentine grace and sensuality, and swiftly pulled her against him. She flinched away at the sudden contact, but only briefly - less than a moment later, greenish-white magic sparked furiously at her fingertips, the words of the spell lost in the instinctual reaction. Thomas winced at the abrupt pain. “What are you doing?”

He looked grim. “Improvising. Don’t kill me.”

And then his lips were against hers before she could reply.

oOo

The Warden leaned against the doorframe of her apartment door, trying to look past her shoulder. Fortunately, they were quite nearly the same height and all of his attempts were met with subtle movements on her part to block his line of sight.

After awhile, he seemed to get the hint and smiled abashedly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I take that as a no.”

Elaine crossed her arms. “I haven’t heard much about it if that’s what you mean. Other than Allison Nguyen, I couldn’t tell you much about the others who’ve gone missing.”

He cocked his head to the side, and Elaine was once again struck by how young he was. His weapons were as battle-scarred as hers and his jacket had obviously seen better days, but he still had the boyish charm of someone who had not quite yet reached thirty. She knew some things about him from Harry and still knew enough about the Wardens and the Council to still be wary of them after years of running away. She had never reneged on her words – she had sworn never to be a puppet of the Council and, years later, she held true to that promise.

It was why having a Warden show up on her doorstep was a little disconcerting. While he stood there, she had gradually and subtlety rearranged the wards surrounding the area so that they were far less complex than they originally had been. It was a minor risk, but she doubted that a demon or goblin would come crashing down the hall anytime soon.

“Should I be concerned, Warden?” she asked, eyes widening just enough to appear uneasy about his questions. She watched as he blinked and then gave her a devastatingly reassuring smile.

“I don’t think you’re in any danger at all, Miss Mallory,” he replied. “It’s just best to keep on your guard with this rumor going around.”

Rumors...all of this over a rumor. Margaux, after that small faux pas a few weeks ago, had been continually avoiding her. It raised Elaine’s suspicions, but there was nothing to be done and she couldn’t have stayed in Las Vegas anyway during that time if Allison was truly still missing in California. The trail was cold and people closest to the source of the rumor simply weren’t talking.

She leaned against the door, wondering how far this rumor had traveled now that the Wardens knew about it. She couldn’t keep it from unraveling, no matter what she had promised Allison – if it reached beyond the threads of the Paranet, there wasn’t much she could do to keep it from spreading.

“Do you think a lot of people believe in it? The dagger, I mean?”

The Warden shrugged. “There’s really no history to it other than the play.” He added dryly, “Although I’ll have to draw the line if anyone starts popping around and quoting soliloquies at skulls.”  
She returned his smile with a small one of her own, but she was already thinking ahead. A rumored dagger with no known history, said to be the same that Juliet used to kill her – if there was any truth to it, something so closely tied to blood and powerful emotion was bound to be deadly in the wrong hands. It would be the perfect tool for ritual magic, but a weapon that powerful should have more lore to it.

He was looking at her expectantly, and Elaine berated herself for allowing herself to get lost in thought. She adapted a weary expression. “If I find out anything, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

“Don’t get in over your head.” It was both a warning and concern, however misplaced both may have been.

 _Too late_.

He turned at the stairs, paused, and then glanced back, throwing her a smile that was both charming and exasperating. “Hey, by the way-”

She arched an eyebrow. “The answer is still no, Warden Ramirez.”

He laughed.

“Damn. Maybe next time.”

oOo

The first second of the kiss stunned Elaine into complete silence, but it only took a moment after that for the shock to disappear under a wave of anger.

She would have pushed him away in outrage if she wasn’t aware of the guards just a dozen feet away, standing surprised and bemused just outside the stairwell. She supposed they’d only been expecting a few confused guests at the most, not a couple caught in the middle of an intimate embrace. The man who hadn’t been wheezing coughed.

Elaine was going to _kill_ Thomas.

“Uh, why don’t we check the other floor first?” One of the men was whispering, but she could still hear him in the near-silence of the rest of the hallway. She heard the door click open, followed by the same man asking in an amused tone, “Think they noticed us?”

“With a girl like that, I wouldn’t notice us.”

Something like venom sank beneath her skin, hot and numbing and tingling. It was only a faint trace of something fatal, nothing that should have alarmed her and nothing that she would have pegged as otherworldly if she hadn’t been so riled up – in fact, she was almost positive that it was restrained, as if Thomas was trying to hold back something dangerous for the few seconds it took for the façade to last. It was a feeling similar to the Skavis from ages ago, but whispers of despair were replaced with whispers of desire–

Like _hell_ was she going to give into it.

There was no verbal spell for the electric current that she fed to that scalding poison that tried to seep into her blood. It was something that brimmed with life, unadulterated and dynamic magic, that same gust of energy that flowed through everything. She pulled at those currents around her, warping them into something she could use to distract that demonic lull – she couldn’t tell if it was working or not. All she knew that Thomas’ lips were still against hers, pleasurable to the point of addicting pain, and his hands were at her hips and she was going to feed him to the phage once they found it.

“Would you come on?” one of the men hissed – why were they still there?

“Hell, I was just thinking…” the other’s voice echoed quietly in the stairwell, “with a _guy_ like that, I wouldn’t notice us.”

The door shut behind them.

She should have pushed him away the moment they were alone. He should have been backing away with a rueful smirk, pleased that he had managed to ruffle her usually unshakeable calm. She would have been irritated and frustrated, but they would have pretended it never happened (and honestly, neither would have brought it up to Harry for various reason) and they would have continued looking for the phage.

It didn’t quite happen that way.

Elaine didn’t know exactly when Thomas’s control slipped, but the magic that she had been steadily feeding to whatever demon lurked just beyond his playboy mask gradually dimmed and faltered. A small part of her was alarmed, knew immediately that she had to try a different tactic, but that voice was quickly drowned in a dizzying rush of intoxicating heat as Thomas emitted a growl that wasn’t quite human and kissed her more fiercely than before, roughly pushing her further against the wall. There was nothing gentle or cautious about his touch now - there was an almost frantic and possessive need to it, and something screamed at her to return in kind, her body more than willing to accept.

 _Yes_ , the same toxic voice whispered as she clutched the silky fabric of his shirt with one hand, the other tangled in his dark hair. Whatever dark temptation had lanced through her seemed to have taken control of him too, his lips pressing against hers and along her jawline and neck, the hollow of her throat and her shoulder, drawing shuddering gasps from her. She felt his hips press against her, an unspoken promise of rumpled sheets and skin against sweat-slicked skin. _Touch him, taste him. You want this. You need this. Forget everything else. Nothing else is important except him._

Only then was she aware of his hand lightly ghosting up her leg, trailing fire, pushing up the hem of her dress...

_No...no. Stop. **Stop.**_

They violently broke apart, with Elaine more or less shoving Thomas back as pale sparks of electricity flared up at her touch before burning out on their flight to the floor. Both of them were gasping heavily, flushed, and Elaine noted with muted satisfaction that Thomas looked almost as unsettled as she was. That demonic touch that had settled under her skin and tried to work itself into her mind had left her feeling dizzy, like her very soul was about to incinerate. She leaned back against the wall, cursing Thomas, his lineage, the job, the hotel, and Harry for having the brilliant idea of running off to find the phage by himself in the first place.

_Being the Winter Knight has given you some sort of twisted sense of humor…_

Thomas glared balefully at her. “Empty fucking night - what the hell was that?”

“You first,” she replied as evenly as she could manage - it took more will than she would have liked to admit to control her voice. “What were you _thinking_?”

He opened his mouth to reply, but then scowled and turned away, noticeably making the effort to calm himself. Before he looked away, Elaine caught a glimpse of bright chrome sparking in his eyes, the irises much paler than they had been only a moment before. She looked up the ceiling, taking a deep breath and trying to kill the urge to both maim Harry’s friend and continue right where they had left off.

A minute or two passed in silence.

Finally, Thomas shook his head, rubbing at the bridge of his nose in a gesture that reminded Elaine painfully of Harry. In other people, it would have been hesitation. But not for Thomas Raith. “I apologize, Miss Mallory.” There were only the faintest traces of a charming smirk on his face, but he did sound as sincere as possible given the circumstances. “I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you like that.”

She irritably cut him off with a wave of her hand. She didn’t want to hear it. “We could go on and on about ‘should haves’. It’s not worth it.” Taking one more moment or collect herself, she straightened up and turned her attention back to the vile stain on the floor. “Let’s get this over with.”

_Harry, wherever you are, you had better have a good excuse for vanishing on us._

The trail led them to yet another stairwell on the far end of the hall. No one came out of their room to investigate the mysterious blackout, and Elaine still couldn’t hear anyone just beyond the doors. It seemed as if the entire floor was deserted, even thought the disquieting feeling of wrong had dissipated somewhat. It was still abnormally cold, more so now that Elaine felt flushed from anger and the heat of that kiss.

She couldn’t think about it – she couldn’t go down that same slippery road that had been the consequence of dealing with one of Thomas’ cousins some time ago. There was no time for self-doubt or worry – she shoved everything away in a mental box stubbornly labeled LATER.

The door was dented and there was a stain on it that looked similar to the one that ran down the length of the corridor. Similar, but not exact – Elaine felt her hand clench into a fist at her side as the metallic smell of something familiar and something intrinsically human drifted from just beyond the ruined door.

Thomas stepped around her and opened the door, the metal groaning from the effort. Elaine looked past him and then closed her eyes, resting her forehead against the cool metal of the frame. She should have known. But there was too much she hadn’t been prepared for – the phage, the blackout...

Or the sight of Jason lying in a mangled, bloody heap on the landing below.


	4. Chapter 4

_A plague o’ both your houses... -- III.I_

oOo

The door didn’t shut behind them once it had been opened – it had been too warped by the force of the phage’s blow and instead came within inches of the latch with a protesting groan of metal. There were no echoing sounds of other people: no hurrying footsteps, no hushed conversations – the stairwell was completely deserted. The sharp tang of blood – both human and phage – was thick enough to make Elaine nearly gag, the stairs leading down to the landing streaked with black and red.

“Wait here.” Thomas moved past her and edged down the blood-slicked stairs carefully – she wasn’t in any mood to argue with him anymore, the fury she had felt earlier settling back to a simmer that caused the lights to flicker ominously around them. She watched as he knelt down next to Jason’s prone body, pressing two fingers to the side of his throat. A few seconds passed.

Then Jason groaned, the sound faint and feeble.

“Damn,” Thomas muttered, reaching for his phone. Elaine closed her eyes in relief, taking just a second to collect herself before descending to the landing cautiously. Considering how much blood was plastered everywhere, the fact that he was still alive was nothing short of a miracle. That didn’t mean that the injuries bode well for him - his gray suit and pristine white shirt were soaked in blood, slick and darkly crimson in the pale light of the stairwell, and his arm lay at an angle that suggested either a dislocated shoulder or a break. She couldn’t see the source of the blood except for a nasty gash that cut across his scalp, soaking his blond hair and running grotesquely down his neck.

This was beyond any healing that she could do but rather than focus on that, she clinically examined the surrounding area. It had taken some time to run up the stairs, but the phage still had to have been moving fast if it had managed to nab both Jason and Margaux…unless Jason had already been waiting for Margaux before the blackout hit. Had there been a disagreement with the seller, or was the seller cleaning up loose ends?

She took in the blood on the stairs and the wall, his bruised knuckles, his arm, the clean cut across his temple. He had fought back. And that cut was far too clean to have been scored by teeth or claws. It looked more like a knife wound.

_Or a dagger._

It was only as she looked at the cut did she realize that Jason was peering up at her through half-closed eyes. “Y-you...”

Thomas threw Elaine a quick glance, shaking his head and pointing towards his phone. Elaine gave him a flat look and then turned back to the injured man. “What happened, Jason?”

“Bitch. That bitch...” He closed his eyes, swallowing slowly several times in a row. Elaine recognized the impeding sign of retching, and hoped that there was no internal damage on top of what was a probably concussion. No blood bubbled up from his mouth, but his words were still slurred. “C-couldn’t see...she said it wasn’t...” He trailed off with a pained groan.

“Was it Margaux?” Elaine asked softly. Jason blinked tiredly at her, started to shake his head, and then flinched in agony.

“No...her friend...she said...” His words were getting quieter and more garbled as consciousness gradually fled from him. “The dagger’s important...shouldn’t’ve tried to...tried to sell it...her family...”

“Jason...?”

"...just wanted...Ally back…was so stupid…" He closed his eyes. “She said…it’s poisoned…”

The last word was so feeble that she barely even heard it, and she had to lean forward to catch that last whisper before Jason let out a shaky breath and went completely limp. She hurriedly glanced down at his chest, grimacing as she saw the slow, uneven rises. She reached out to examine the too-clean cut to his head when Thomas rose, slipping his phone back into his jacket pocket.

“We have to go.”

She scowled. “And leave him here?”

“Someone’s on the way and we still need to find Harry and that phage before it takes out someone else.”

Elaine stood, ignoring the stomach-churning smell of blood and sweat and fear that dripped down the stairwell walls. She hated to admit that he was right, that they couldn’t afford to wait around for help to arrive – even if that did mean abandoning a severely-injured civilian and hoping the phage didn’t return to finish off the job (although Elaine knew for a fact that it wasn’t entirely the phage that had caused those injuries).

“And when someone starts asking questions?” Thomas shrugged, already heading up the stairs and bypassing the thirty-first floor.

“It’s taken care of.”

 _It’s taken care of?_ Elaine narrowed her eyes at Thomas’s retreating back. Glancing back at Jason’s prone but still breathing form, she wondered whether just to balk at his words...or find out what he really meant by them. She had her suspicions already, and he wasn't helping his case at all.

She gave Jason was one last, brief look before following Thomas up to the thirty-third floor.

The door opened to another dimly-lit hallway – unlike the floors below them however, the lights kept flickering unsteadily as technology fought against the noxious presence of a powerful creature from the Nevernever. Elaine didn’t recoil from the sickening sensation that sunk under skin and that by itself should have given her pause, but she was focused on something else entirely.

The moment the door closed behind them with a reverberating click, Elaine murmured a spell beneath her breath – one of Harry’s from a long time ago but one she had long since adapted. When they were younger, Harry’s bindings had usually been extremely brittle, strong but easily shattered. She had reworked the subtleties of the spell itself, keeping its strength while improving its flexibility. It was something complex enough that it had at one time taken her nearly a minute to put together, but now pulled itself together in the space of a heartbeat.

Thomas came to an abrupt halt in the hallway as the spell enclosed on him, and then he let out an annoyed sigh as he realized what had happened.

“That’s one way to stab me in the back. Didn’t think you’d stoop so low as to make me defenseless.”

“I’d hardly call you defenseless.” Elaine stayed behind him, keeping an eye on not only his still form but for any sign of the seller or the phage coming down the hall. She opened her purse, silently slipping out the cool coils of her electrified chain. She didn’t _plan_ on using it, but... “What do you know about the dagger?”

“No more than you, Miss Mallory.”

“Try again.” She absently wound one end of the chain around her hand and then pulled the entire length taut with the other. “Las Vegas is White Court territory, and it has been for ages. You know more than you’re letting on.”

Thomas was very quiet for a moment. Then, in a low and dangerous voice, he said, “I could say the same about you.”

Her grip on the chain tightened – it wasn’t a lie. “We all keep our secrets. I’d rather not die because of yours.”

“And you think _I_ would?” Thomas shot back in a wintry tone. “I saw what happened before the blackout. Margaux Nguyen recognized you – you _knew_ who she was before we even came here tonight.” Despite the ice that was threaded through his voice, he sounded remarkably calm. “I’m not stupid, Miss Mallory. You only agreed to this case so Harry and I could help you get that dagger – it doesn’t matter if you believe in it or not. You want it just as bad as everyone else.”

Elaine paused, staying just out of his line of sight. The last thing she wanted or needed this night was to be reprimanded by a conflicted White Court vampire who was concealing secrets of his own. Rather than rise to the bait, she replied, “Everyone has their own agenda in the end. You can’t tell me that you don’t have one of your own.”

“Regardless of what _you_ may think, I actually came here to help Harry.”

“Excuse me if I’m not impressed by your selflessness.”

“It’s certainly better than being selfish.”

That hit a nerve – Elaine froze, her grip on the chain becoming white-knuckled. “What did you say?”

Thomas’ laugh was low and velvety, but even that couldn’t hide the scorn in his voice. “I said you’re selfish, Miss Mallory. It’s a two-way street and you expect it to work only one way.” He sounded lazy and collected and infuriatingly confident. “You and Harry might have started off cut from the same stone, but at least he’s got a sense of honor to back him up. You...I don’t know about you - you hide behind a pretty face, but I think you’d leave him out to dry if it meant your survival over his. And please stop looking as if I’ve offended you somehow, as if you can stand on some higher pedestal than me.”

The chain almost slipped from her hand to snap viciously down his spine, a painful jolt that would have paralyzed him for several moments. Even in the silence that followed, there were several audible cracks as electricity crackled through the chain, lighting up the woven copper strands in a macabre dance. He had no right. What reason did he have to judge her motives for doing anything? Stars above, he was a _vampire_ , no matter how Harry tried to spin his story, no matter how valiant he pretended to be. It was just a lie - another mask, another fabrication...

And it sounded painfully familiar.

The spell dropped away from him as she lowered her arm. She watched as Thomas turned what could have been a stumble into a graceful turn, glancing back at her momentarily with a raised brow. She shook her head, wisps of brown-gold hair brushing against her collarbone. She should have known - the kiss may have been a distraction that kept the security guards from chasing them out of the hotel, but the minute that hunger had deepened, he had been able to see past those walls. No point in lying.

No point in playing fair either.

It was a piece of a memory, a hunch from something Harry had told her awhile ago. She looked up at him, made no effort _not_ to meet his eyes. She had to admit that he realized what was going to happen much sooner than anyone else would have, but it was still a fraction of a millisecond too late - by then the overwhelming wave of a soulgaze had already begun.

Elaine heard of the different ways wizards were able to look upon someone else’s soul - sometimes it was in sound, in sight, in touch. Harry’s, she recalled him telling her years ago, was always in the form of powerful metaphorical images (and she had laughed before kissing him on cheek because the idea of Harry seeing _anything_ metaphorically was hilarious). She never saw those visions, bleak or brilliant or piercing, but rather found herself facing a volatile storm of emotions each time she looked upon another person’s soul - impressions, some faint and surreal and others as vibrant as chaos. It was always a mental whirlwind, no matter how placid the outer presence was - still waters, after all.

She didn’t know what to expect from a White Court vampire, but it certainly wasn’t what she felt.

Harry’s words echoed in the back of her mind as a plethora of emotions swelled from a dark mist. There was deep-seated worry, gray and wispy and edging along each thought, and easily resonated with the same worry she had for Harry. Concern for his safety, but it went deeper than that - it was more than just this passing case, something that was irrevocably bound to the other wizard. It was something she had felt in those scant few years of a makeshift family, that constant thread of uncertainty and affection.

It was strange - and again she wondered if there was more to their working relationship than either of them would ever admit - but more relatable than the other emotions following close behind. Fury and frustration - both towards her and understandable - and loathing... _not_ towards her. It was something ingrained in him, something dark and violent and pure in its intensity - something he felt towards...himself? She didn’t and couldn’t see the source of the emotion, but it pulsed through his words and his actions, a whisper of self-hatred that was years old and that had seemingly never waned.

And through all of that, there were two poignant emotions that battled one another - one was...

Elaine shivered.

It was lust, but far worse than the emotions engrained within the walls of the hotel. Even in the gaze, there was a demonic hunger that came as naturally to him as magic did to her. There was something primal in its need, something revolting and septic and impossibly _strong_. It was the voice of want that disguised itself as need, deadly and infinitely patient. It would wait - it moved on its own, circling around the other emotions, sometimes touching upon them briefly, but never reigning. Not yet. And it had seen something in the power she had fed it, something that sparked curiosity and a craving for more - a predator that had seen a new type of prey and had become enthralled.

It left fire in its wake, consuming and vast, but even that was overshadowed by something brighter and more pure than anything else. It was a raw grief so incredibly painful and real and shot through with love and a terrible sense of loss that it was enough to influence every other single emotion, branding them white hot in its passing.

There was something else... _someone_ important, the source of so many of those turbulent emotions...faintly, a memory of dark eyes in a pale face, laughing and kind and beautiful...

And then, as abruptly as it began, the moment was gone and Elaine suddenly found herself looking down the barrel of the Desert Eagle.

“You venomous cheat.”

He had broken the soulgaze before she could see more - impressive. She clenched her jaw against the rush of emotions that had surfaced from the soulgaze and glared steadily at him, figuring that it would have been less than smart to shove a bolt of electricity down his throat. His eyes were a shade paler than before, she noticed, and his face was carefully blank of any readable emotion - not that it would have mattered, not after what she had seen.

“What, exactly, would have expected me to do?” She flashed him a smile - or at least she bared her teeth. “If I have to play your game, I’d rather not be at a disadvantage.” She narrowed her eyes, giving him a scathing look. “It is a game to you, isn’t it? A charade?”

The gun didn’t waver. “Not when Harry’s involved.”

She gathered his meaning - and it hurt. A brief look of remorse flashed over her face and she turned to look down the still eerily-silent hallway. It...wasn’t like that. She didn’t know what he had seen that caused him to react in anger, but then again...she had been truthful in her words to Harry too. “Then we agree on something.” She paused, closing her eyes and remember that rush of emotion from him. “You play well, but so do I.”

“You’ve almost gotten him killed twice before, Miss Mallory. Winter Knight or not, it won’t happen a third time.”

She shrugged, the graceful gesture weary. “It’s not my intention and never was.” She sighed. “I _do_ care about him, whatever you may think.”

Thomas stared silently at her for a long time and she could feel the weight of the judgment in that look, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. What was his opinion when she had already done enough to jeopardize the trust of one of the few people she still genuinely cared about? She had learned how to survive, through and through, and it often meant playing dirty and being selfish and if it kept the nightmares at bay then she’d gladly keep doing it. Aurora and the other Fae had taught her to twist words, to cover her past and present in a series of untruths that did no harm.  
It had helped, involving herself in other people’s lives and finding lost children and fighting against other people’s demons. But even with that, with words of gratitude and thankful embraces and that impossible trust her clients put in her, it was still so _incredibly_ lonely, a distant ache to that same sting of isolation that wove its way through Thomas’s own thoughts and emotions.

Harry was a constant in her life and while she may not have revealed everything she had known to him and probably would never do so, she’d never do something as callous and hurtful as knowingly putting him in harm’s way. Not anymore.

She may have hated what she had done and would do, but she knew, even if it meant losing him, she would do what she had to if it meant keeping her word to someone else, to keep that one tiny bit of control over her own nightmares and demons by helping others with theirs. It would be another loss, a blow that she loathed to compare to Thomas’s own loss, whatever or whomever it had been.

It would _always_ hurt.

She heard Thomas sigh, watching out of the corner of her eye as he lowered the gun and tucked it back into his waistband. “Where do we go from here?” There was a business-like coolness in his voice. She realized he was going to ignore what just happened. For now. They were apparently both very good at that.

Fair enough.

“Find the phage,” she replied quietly, nodding down the long stretch of hallway. “It’s here, judging by the lights and hopefully with the seller.”

“ _‘Hopefully_?’”

“I’m not a compass or a fortune teller.” She began heading down the hall and after a moment, Thomas silently followed. It got colder as they walked, the lights flickering even more urgently as they passed, the sharp buzz of electricity growing weaker.

“At least tell me what Margaux told you about the dagger.” There was something clear in his voice that left no room for argument. Elaine furrowed her brow.

“I want a fair trade.” She held up her weaponless hand as Thomas glowered at her – gods, she was tired. She didn’t want to argue anymore with him, not with time running short. “I said I wasn’t going to be at a disadvantage. If you want my story, you’ll tell me yours.”

When he fell silent, she was almost sure that stubbornness would win out and both of them would only be left with pieces of the whole story. It bothered her more than it should have, but she put it off as the whole case being a horrible wreck. She briefly wondered if the lobby was still being evacuated even if the emergency power had come on.

“You’re right.” The sudden sound of his voice in the cold dimness of the hallway almost surprised her – he followed behind her so quietly, it would have been easy to forget he was there. He must have increased his pace too – rather than walking a step or two behind her, he was suddenly at her side, the sleeve of his suit jacket brushing her arm. “My family has had a noose around Las Vegas for as long as I can remember.”

“They’re involved then?”

Thomas shook his head. “Other than the usual ploys and tricks, I don’t know why anyone would be so interested in a dagger with no solid history.”

“But someone _might_ be.” She felt that detached gray-eyed gaze fall on her, and that shiver of unwanted desire slipped under her skin. She disregarded it, passing it off as the unnatural chill that filled the hallway. “Is there anyone in your family that would believe that story?”

“Do you actually believe it is?” Elaine looked over at Thomas who had once again removed the Desert Eagle from his waistband and was now examining the chamber with such casual indifference that it could only have been feigned. “Just a story, I mean.”

“You’re as bad as Harry.” She thought about his question for a moment. On one hand, she thought it was nonsense; on the other, there were enough people convinced that the dagger had supernatural properties that it was more than enough to be concerned about. It would make sense for the family ( _damn you, Arthur_ ) to keep something like that a secret – but it all came back to whether or not there was truly a secret to keep. “I think there’s some truth behind every story. But whether or not Juliet actually existed as Shakespeare wrote her...I suppose anything is possible. Enough people _believe_ that it’s true and someone is willing to kill for it - that’s enough for it to be dangerous regardless of its history.”

Thomas was silent as he snapped the chamber shut, frowning down at the gun and lost in his own thoughts. Elaine didn’t try to understand what he was thinking at the moment - instead, she waited. It wasn’t patience or concern that led her to wait, but rather knowledge that an inevitable cynical remark would eventually follow the thoughtful silence.

When it did come, as she knew it would, it surprisingly lacked the sarcastic edge that she had been expecting.

“What can you tell me about the curse?”

oOo

“The curse?”

The man in front of her took one look at the door as it shuddered again, the furious howl of something very large and very angry just beyond the frame. To his credit, he didn’t seem to be too bothered by it – instead, he carefully placed his cup of iced tea on the coffee table and studied the wooden door carefully as whatever was on the opposite side clawed violently at the wood. “My house is under attack and you’re asking me about a curse?”

Elaine looked over her shoulder as the door. The conversation had been progressing nicely until some nasty decided to throw her careful approach out the window. “Was there a better time?”

Allison and Margaux’s stepfather smiled grimly and reached inside his jacket pocket, pulling out a ring of braided silver and slipping it onto one of his fingers. Arthur Montecchi was a handsome man just past his prime, with a kind weathered face, blond hair streaked through with silver, and very dark eyes that crinkled at the edges when he smiled. “No, probably not.” He reached for his drink, his eyes never leaving the door. “You are very persistent, Elaine Mallory.”

“I wouldn’t be a good detective if I wasn’t, Arthur,” she replied with a benign but mischievous smile. “Why do you keep your magic hidden from your stepdaughters?”

“Times are difficult,” Montecchi replied as a thud caused a hat to fall off the rack over by the door. “In the mortal world and the supernatural – the last thing I wanted was to bring a storm down on my family. Protecting the dagger is hard enough without Council interference.” He looked away from the door, a grim look marring his benevolent features. “I tried to run away from what was in my blood, but you see how well that turned out.”

Elaine nodded in understanding – Allison was missing, Margaux still refused to come back from her flight to Las Vegas with her girlfriend (Elaine thought her name may have been Penny or Penelope), and the dagger had seemingly vanished with both of them. Harry was coming in ten days – rumors of the case had finally reached fever-pitch on the Paranet and the trail of bodies, mostly extended family members or associates of the Montecchis, had become noticeable even to the Council.

The creature on the other side of the door screamed in fury, throwing its weight against the heavy wood.

“So do you think there’s a curse?” she asked quietly.

“I think,” Montecchi rubbed his forehead thoughtfully, the light sparkling on the braided silver band, “that it’s not so much a curse as an inconvenience.”

There was a series of sharp cracks just a few feet away as the creature managed to nearly jar the door off its hinges. Both Elaine and Montecchi looked towards the door again and almost simultaneously rose to their feet – Elaine shook out the bracelet that had been hidden under her dark windbreaker and Montecchi turned his ring so that a dark stone could be seen set in the strands. He gave Elaine a friendly nod. “Katherine loves that hat rack. She’d be very upset with me if anything happened to it.”

Elaine laughed quietly. “I’ll try to make sure nothing happens to it.”

The creature burst in a moment later, and Elaine almost smiled. It was a vicious little thing, but it was a minor Fae – one of the less formidable creatures from Winter and quite literally more bark than bite. It was a mess of claws and gnashing teeth, the warm buttery light of the living room starkly contrasting with its greenish-blue hide. Its fathomless black eyes fell on Elaine and Montecchi at the same time, and it let out an enraged howl, leaping forward in a flurry of razor-sharp edges.

With a sickening crack, it slammed face first into the shield that Montecchi had summoned.

It wasn’t a strong shield, nothing like what she was able to do but it was adequate enough to stop a miniature rampaging faerie - it bounced back in surprise and pain, dark blood dripping from its shattered snout and onto the cream-colored carpet. It screeched, clawing at the carpet in anger and turned to the tall man, who was examining his ring in dismay. Elaine saw some of the edges had darkened from the impact, a backlash of magic from a focus not prepared to handle such a surge of magical energy.

Before the faerie could recover completely, she threw out her hand and hissed out a guttural-sounding Egyptian phrase. A series of several short blasts of wind carried the faerie away from Montecchi and back out the door and sprawling onto the stairs leading up to the house. Elaine stepped into the doorway, staring out at the spitting faerie at it gathered its legs up beneath him and tried hurtling up the stairs back into the house.

She guessed that it was probably expecting a magical attack from the way ice began coating its shell. It most definitely wasn’t expecting a ferocious kick underneath its snout - its jaw snapped closed over its own blackened tongue, teeth sinking down into the warm, saliva-soaked flesh and Elaine felt something shatter beneath the blow. The faerie went tumbling back down the stairs in a heap, and she readjusted her bracelet again, greenish-silver sparks falling from it as she readied another attack.

Instead of launching itself back up the stairs, the faerie weakly lifted its head, blood and spittle and foam dripping from its warped and broken jaw. It glared menacingly at Elaine from the bottom of the stairs and went it spoke, there was a frigid derision in its unnatural, rasping voice that clung to the air despite the warm autumn night.

“Mortal wizard from Summer, the coward that hid under the Lady’s shadow. We remember you.”

A shiver that had nothing to do with the sudden breeze passed through her. Of course they’d know. Elaine had almost helped topple the balance between Winter and Summer - the faeries would no sooner forget that than a debt owed.

But Montecchi didn’t know that, and Elaine wasn’t about to take the bait. She crossed her arms, and coolly frowned at the faerie. “Who sent you?”

“I answer to no mortal,” it spat.

Elaine smiled, a hint of malice in the gleam. “I could say pretty please.” There was a sudden sharp smell of ozone as she raised her hand in a two-fingered gesture at the faerie who, to its credit, was not dumb enough to call her bluff.

“What will you give me in return?”

“I spent well near a decade with faeries,” Elaine retorted darkly. “I know better than that. Answer my question.”

If it could have smiled around its misshapen jaw, it would have. “Silly mortal bitch - you dabble with creatures far beyond your understanding.”

Elaine stared blankly at it for a long stretch of time. Then, she shrugged. “Fine.” Turning her back to the fae, she gave Montechhi a brief smile from where he was still standing, waiting for the confrontation to be over. “Now what were you telling me about the curse?”

She sensed the moment the fae threw itself at her unprotected back, hackles raised and jaws twisted to bite down on her throat or shoulders, crushing bone and bursting arteries.

There was a swift and radiant flash of light, a muffled bang and a high-pitched scream of agony, and the foul stink of burning rubber. Elaine didn’t have to turn around to see the smoking corpse of the fae, shot through with the spell that she had only seconds earlier threatened it with. It had coalesced into the mass of its body, burning it from the inside out with almost cold-blooded efficiency.

Elaine closed the door behind her calmly. “It got into your house.”

“I noticed,” Montecchi replied with a puzzled expression, sounding faintly out of breath. If he was at all bothered by her execution of the faerie, he didn’t show it. Instead, he ushered her back into the house, sidestepping the broken door. “Evocation?”

Elaine frowned. Of _course_ the situation would become more complicated - she should never have assumed otherwise. A faerie shouldn’t have been able to pass the threshold without mortal intervention. Of all people, she knew how that would work. But the only people who could have been immediate suspects were Montecchi and his wife, two people she could easily vouch for. So who had enough knowledge about the house and the family to allow the faerie permission to enter? The faerie had said it answered to no mortal...

So what immortal creature had gotten into the house first?

Allison couldn’t answer - she had been missing for nearly a month now. Margaux refused to answer, and Elaine was constantly blocked in her efforts by her worried girlfriend every time she called. It was going to take more time to figure this out, more time that she was sure Allison didn’t have...if Allison were still alive.

She was going to need Harry’s help.

Montecchi studied her silently and then held up his hand in a classic waiting gesture before departing from the room, leaving Elaine with her own thoughts. He returned shortly later with a manila envelope, unfastening the red string keeping the flap closed. “You should know that I want my daughters safe, Elaine.” Worry lines creased his browned forehead, aging him. “But this dagger can’t fall into the wrong hands. The Council already knows something is wrong and apparently so do some of the Fae.”

Elaine took the proffered folder from him and pulled out a glossy 8x10 photo. It was a picture of a dagger on a stream of black silk, throwing the intricate designs of the gold-and-onyx hilt and the elaborate curve of the crossguard into stunning relief. The pommel was embedded with a dark scarlet gem, as red as the blood that was rumored to have stained the blade by one Juliet Capulet.

She looked up at Montecchi who seemed to be patiently waiting for an answer. “I might be able to help, but Allison is my first priority.” Montecchi nodded as if he had been expecting that answer.

“I appreciate your honesty, Elaine.”

There was a twinge of something in her heart at those words. He must have noticed the surprised expression on her face and he gently took the photo and envelope out of her hands.

“‘There are more things in heaven and earth’ - I trust you to do the right thing. Promise me you’ll find her.”

“Arthur...”

“Please.” His expression was imploring. “Bring Allison home, Elaine.”

oOo

Elaine unclasped the end of her chain, her fingers nearly numb from the cold of the hallway. “Nothing worth noting.”

“None that you know of or none that you can tell me?”

The lights sputtered overhead.

“I honestly don’t know.” She stopped in front of one of the suite doors as the lights continued to fail just above their heads. The wave of sick lust that had permeated the casino floor earlier practically vibrated from a room just two doors down, and it made her stomach twist into knots. What if she was too late? What if the arguing that had resulted from her deep-seated distrust of Thomas had stalled them enough to kill Margaux? And then there was poor Allison... “Everyone wants something out of this story, and too many people have paid for those answers in blood. I just want it to stop, curse or not.”

She placed her purse on the ground, removing her bracelets and slipping them onto her wrist and tried to quell the shiver that ran through her that had nothing to do with the cold. Forget the physical exhaustion - she was closely reaching other limits and between that soulgaze and the kiss...

Elaine closed her eyes, willing the tension to disappear from her mind and her body. No, she didn’t have time for this, didn’t have time to fall apart. Allison and Margaux needed her to act and solve this, and then there was Harry and so many faceless families that had lose someone to this whole thing.

She opened her eyes, letting out a breath to calm rattled nerves and was surprised to find Thomas holding out a hand to help her to her feet. She gave him a flat, almost confused look and he smiled slightly - self-deprecating and bitterly sincere.

“You’re not my cup of tea, Miss Mallory, but I think I can trust you to get this done.”

She blinked, hating the uncertainty. “A few minutes ago, you had a gun pointed to my head,” she pointed out cynically.

The smile became a bit more genuine. “But I didn’t shoot you. I say that’s progress.” He gestured with extended hand, making the movement look elegant and inviting and pointed at the same time. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Elaine didn’t take his hand, but she did give a short nod of agreement, rising to her feet. It was a fragile trust, brought on by circumstance rather than earned, but it would have to do. They disagreed on everything except finding Harry and making sure he hadn’t heaped a world of trouble on himself.

“Two doors down.” She frowned at him. “Try not to do anything stupid.”

A feral grin snuck onto Thomas’s face as they reached the door, already reaching for his gun. “Miss Somerset,” he drawled quietly as she quickly and easily hexed the lock, “you should know...I have a license to kill, not get killed.”

As the door swung open to silence and darkness, Elaine repressed the urge to just leave him out in the hallway. A fight starting with horrible one-liners. A mysterious gambler whose shadow was draped with corpses. A MacGuffin with strange powers and a damsel in distress.

Hell’s bells, this _was_ a bad spy movie.


	5. Chapter 5

_Yea, noise? then I'll be brief. O happy dagger!_   
_This is thy sheath;_   
_there rust, and let me die -- V.III_

oOo

It didn't take long.

A split second after the door shut behind them, the phage attacked, bloodshot eyes and sharp teeth and claws and the breath of a dozen decaying things, faster than anything that big had the right to be.

Between Thomas and Elaine, it never got the element of surprise.

Elaine’s spell, carried by the speed of thought, unraveled from her hands like a series of whips, each a blindingly brilliant silver-green that lit up the shadows of the room and the phage’s grotesque snarl. The bolts of electricity found its target, and the nauseating stench of smoldering flesh filled the room as the phage screamed in pain. It twisted away from the attack, a blur of scorched black and red flesh, and made a vicious swipe at Elaine’s unprotected side, only for it to be shocked back by two bright flares as Thomas fired shots into its jaw.

Elaine ducked further into the room and away from the furious creature’s teeth and claws. The presence of black magic had short-circuited the running electricity in the room, leaving everything in shadow. The neon lights from below colored the ceiling and the walls in a muted glow, dulled even more by the brilliant lights from the hotel’s famous fountain.

She glanced back over her shoulder at the sound of breaking glass, watching as the phage smashed the dining room table, sending plates and champagne glasses flying in an attempt to distract Thomas. It seemed to be trying to make a break for the foyer, and Elaine cursed beneath her breath, throwing out her arm and shouting out the first spell that came to mind, hoping that Thomas wouldn’t get in the way of it and end up getting tossed out of the window. It wasn’t easy to abruptly change the pressures in the room to create gale force winds, and considering where they were, it wasn’t going to last long. Brute force was Harry’s thing, not hers.

“ _Aerios_!”

The powerful blow knocked the phage away from the door, sending it tumbling end over end into the couch, its trajectory just somehow managing to keep it from shattering the window and falling to the ground stories below. Elaine swayed slightly but forcefully shook her head to clear the spots waltzing in her vision, heading again to the desk just across from the couch. They needed _light_ , if even for a moment.

The trouble was finding an outlet before the phage ripped her head off.

Thomas was already moving from the destroyed chairs and table the phage had shredded, taking careful aim as the monster untangled itself from the upended couch. As Elaine turned her back to search for the nearest outlet, she heard a series of gunshots behind her and a strangled cry of anger from the phage.

“I really don’t feel like dancing with this thing all night, Miss Mallory!”

“One second,” she hissed, dropping to the floor as a lamp went whizzing millimeters past her head, exploding against the wall less than two feet away. There was an outlet in the corner just below the desk where a lamp and the telephone were sitting, not having been yet used as projectiles.

Yanking both plugs out, she was about to reach for her electrified chain when she heard Thomas shout, “Watch out!”

Sheer reflex created the shield around her, and her bracelet burned hot against her wrist as the phage bounded into it. It flashed a blinding white and Elaine sucked in a breath of pain as the creature stumbled back into the upturned coffee table, snarling in fury. It didn’t take long for it to regain its bearings - it was learning far too quickly after being violently slammed around by both vampire and wizard and it apparently didn’t like it very much. It scrambled forward, eyes blazing, and Elaine knew she couldn’t twist out of the way before the phage could gut her. She braced herself, prepared for the inevitable white hot pain of its claws sinking into the tender flesh of her stomach...but the blow never came.

Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed Thomas, pale and supernaturally fast, grab hold of the phage’s spiked tail and pull back with enough force that she could hear its spine pop at first, followed by the sharp, painful-sounding cracks of the vertebrae snapping as its own momentum was used against it.

No time for relief. As the creature howled, Elaine spun back to the outlet, slipped her chain out of her purse, and jammed the tail end of it into the socket, and with a whisper of will, reversed the usual charge.

The full blast of an electric storm sprang from the brilliant metallic links, raining white sparks onto the carpet. The surge buzzed loudly through the walls, and the lights in the room burned a dull red before snapping to a searing intensity and even though she couldn’t see it, Elaine knew that it was a death knoll to the rest of the backup electricity flowing through the hotel’s walls. The already frazzled circuits and the magic-enhanced storm would create another complete and total blackout through the entire hotel - precisely what they needed before guards came running to the room to figure out the source of the gunshots.

At least the flashlights will still work this time, Elaine thought as a wave of vertigo hit her, blinking back the darkness that swam at the edge of her vision.

The flare of light only lasted a few seconds, but it was enough for both Elaine and Thomas to see the bewildered face of the seller standing near the bedroom door - in the darkness, she had been all but invisible as the fight literally tore the room to shreds. In contrast to the shattered glass and ripped furniture, with a vibrant green cocktail dress caressing her body, she looked as if she had stepped off some embellished Italian runway, all sensual and lithe curves. Her pale blue eyes flickered uncertainly to the wanton destruction in front of her. Elaine only had to take one look at her impossibly beautiful features and silver-flecked eyes to know exactly who, or _what_ , the seller was, and cursed beneath her breath. She had been right.

In those fleeting seconds, the seller and Thomas both caught each other’s eyes. Surprise flickered across the stranger’s face while dark fury crossed Thomas’s.

And just before the lights winked out again, Elaine caught sight of someone lying motionless in the room behind her, dressed in the red and black of a blackjack dealer.

Margaux.

Letting go of the chain, Elaine jumped to her feet, no easy task in heels or a cocktail dress that she regretted wearing. True, they never would have made it this far without dripping charm and opulence, but it was utter hell having to fight like that. The phage was moving slower now thanks to its damaged spine, but Thomas was no longer paying any attention to it. Elaine already knew why and, rather than berate him on how this was not the time for a family squabble, focused her attention on the creature. She was throwing too much magic around and could feel weariness start to sink into her bones - if this didn’t come to an end soon...

“What the hell are you doing here, Penelope?”

Elaine froze. Penelope.

“ _Pen says after what happened with Ally..._ ”

Elaine heard a sickening crack and a yelp of stunned pain from the other side of the room, and narrowed her eyes. In the darkness, she couldn’t see the fight and knew it was in her best interests to stay on the _other_ side of the suite - with a creature nearly berserk with rage and pain.

 _I should have known_ , Elaine thought darkly, eyes darting around the room, searching from inspiration. The chain was dead for now until it recharged. Thomas was currently attempting to beat his kin’s skull in to make a point. Another brute force attack on the phage was impossible. And despite the broken furniture, she couldn’t very well go Buffy on the damn thing and stake it to death with a broken chair leg - not with its thick, leathery hide.

Her eyes landed on the wet bar and an idea reminiscent of Harry at his worst slipped into mind.

The phage, clumsy with its damaged spine, lunged at her, but Elaine managed to avoid the brunt of its attack, although she did stagger slightly as its massive shoulder glanced over her thigh. She ducked past the foyer and into the wet bar, not bothering to slam the door shut behind her. The bar itself came up to her waist - if the phage wanted to leap over the counter to tear her throat open, the closed door wasn’t going to stop it. She threw open the cabinet just beneath the sink and found exactly what she was looking for - it shouldn’t have surprised her that a room belonging to a White Court vampire would be stocked full of alcohol.

Catching a glimpse of the phage’s bulk just beyond the half-closed door, Elaine quickly perused through the labels and then grabbed the bottle most likely to do the trick. Gracefully jumping up onto the counter, she looked back over her shoulder to where the two vampires had vanished - from the thudding sounds of breaking furniture, it appeared that they had vanished into the bedroom where the seller had been lurking previously. She winced as the sharp blasts of Thomas’ gun reverberated through the large hotel room – damn it, Margaux was still in there.

She twisted the top off the bottle, already weaving a spell around its contents. It wasn’t so much as subtle as simple - a small push of her will, a brief dabble in the chemicals inside the bottle. From what the label said, it wasn’t going to take much on her part.

The phage finally burst through the small area, maddened eyes immediately falling on Elaine who was still perched on the countertop.

“No one ever gave you points for being the cleverest Fincherphage,” she muttered.

The creature let out a pain-lanced howl, throwing itself at her, and Elaine threw the bottle into its gaping jaw. The bottle lodged itself in the phage’s abnormally twisted mouth and it snapped down hard, shattering the bottle as if were no more than a piece of candy, liquid spilling over its blackened gums and jaw.

Brilliant.

Elaine swung herself off the bar just as the phage’s claws raked at the area her head was, only a heartbeat too late, the swipe still managing to clip a few strands of wheat-colored hair in passing - even with a shattered spine, it was still distressingly fast.

Elaine didn’t even think as the phage leaped onto the bar counter. “ _Sedjet_ ,” she whispered, creating a minuscule flame near the corner of the phage’s mouth.

The flammable contents of the bottle - one container of 190-proof Everclear - did the rest.

 _You’d better be able to keep your cousin preoccupied_. Dropping back behind one of the battered armchairs, Elaine thrust out her hand and turned her shield away from herself, creating layers upon layers of energy over the squealing monster as it thrashed in agony from the white hot flames that had enveloped its body: a layer to keep the flames from spreading, a layer to keep the rising smoke from overtaking the room, a layer to feed the flames but not to suffocate her. Little nuances, carefully constructed on the fly. It had to be flexible too - the phage thrashed so violently that Elaine was sure it was going to do more injury to itself than the flames were. But if her shield also took the beating, the overheated bracelet would singe the skin right to the bone.

She bit back a gasp, leaning heavily against the upturned armchair as the phage screamed in pain, the flames burning the image of its death throes into her mind. A bead of sweat trickled down her temple - damn, it wasn’t supposed to be this hard. How in all the hells did Harry manage to make this look easy on a regular basis? She could feel herself wavering even as the phage gave a few final convulsive jerks, its screams dying down to tortured high-pitched squeals...

And then...nothing.

She lowered her arm, ignoring the fact that she was trembling from exertion and exhaustion. The smoldering remains of the phage dropped to the ground, filling the room with the revolting smell of burned flesh and alcohol. Slowly, the blackened corpse bubbled grotesquely into ectoplasm, seeping into the floor. The stench remained.

Swallowing back the bile that was rising and wiping her brow, Elaine sidestepped the suite’s debris and cautiously headed towards the bedroom which had fallen ominously silent. She was shaking from the adrenaline that seared her blood. She already knew and dreaded the soul-deep exhaustion that would come once the adrenaline wore off.

Quietly, she prodded the half-closed door open.

The bedroom hadn’t faired much better than the living room or the wet bar. The first thing she noticed was the breeze - one of the windows had completely shattered, the wispy curtains floating half-in, half-out of the room. The dresser had half-collapsed in on itself in a shower of splinters and the tastefully bland paintings in the room were knocked askew. Far below, Elaine could hear the sound of alarms as fire trucks and police cars descended on the completely blacked out Bellagio. Elaine slipped her fingers underneath the necklace chain and quietly pulled the pentacle from where it had been resting cooling between her breasts. A flicker of a heartbeat later, a muted glow fell onto the room.

The succubus - Penelope, Elaine remembered Thomas calling her over the din of a fight - was standing by the unbroken windows, glaring venomously at Thomas. He was closest to the door, his posture that of cool casualness but even Elaine could see that his muscles were tense, ready to leap at the other White Court vampire at a moment’s notice.

Margaux lay sprawled on the floor, and Elaine noted with relief that she was still breathing albeit shallowly. She was staring blankly at the ceiling, pupils dilated, and every so often, a breathless mewl escaped her lips. As far as Elaine could tell, she wasn’t injured - but she had no idea how much damage had been done mentally to her by the vampire, judging from her apparent drugged state.

Thomas turned his head a fraction in Elaine’s direction. “The phage?”

“Dead.” Her voice was cold - she turned a scathing look to Penelope. “Is she the one who went after the practitioners?”

“I recognize your voice,” the vampire whispered, turning wide gray eyes towards Elaine, and licked her lips in what was more of a nervous gesture than seductive. “You’re that wizard that was looking for the doe.” She looked back at Thomas, frowning. “Hasn’t Lara had enough of your dalliances with wizards?”

“That would be her,” Thomas replied in a wintry tone, ignoring his cousin and hiding any surprise that she knew who Elaine was behind a very good poker face. “And I personally would like to know why. All of this over a fucking _dagger_ , Pen?”

Elaine wanted to know the answer to that question too. But she’d be damned if she was going to polite about it. The spell that entangled Penelope was the same she had only a few minutes earlier used on Thomas. She saw the slight flare of panic erupt in the other vampire’s eyes when she realized that she couldn’t move, but Elaine couldn’t have cared less. She thought she saw Thomas arch an eyebrow at her and give her a nod of approval, but she pretended not to notice. “You have three minutes. Talk.”

In her defense, Penelope did manage to collect her wits faster than most people - one moment, she was shocked, and the next, cold condescension had slipped across her face. “Silly doe - just because you throw a bit of magic around doesn’t make you any more than prized chattel.” Something dark and beguiling sparked in her eyes, turning them into chrome. “But I’ve never had a _true_ wizard before. It must be...exciting.”

Thomas lifted his gun casually, narrowing his eyes. “Pen.”

The suffocating allure that was beginning to seep into the room dissipated immediately, replaced by a glacial cold. Penelope snapped her disconcerting gaze away from Elaine, who let out a breath she didn’t even know she had been holding. Whether it was from the lust that had pulled her in like gravity or simmering rage at this girl’s hand in a half dozen innocent deaths, she didn’t know. Frankly, she didn’t care.

“Answer the question.” He didn’t lower the weapon.

She scowled petulantly. “Why should I?”

Thomas amiably fired the gun and put a hole in the wall three inches from Penelope’s head.

Elaine was impressed despite herself - the vampire let out a startled cry, trying to break free of the invisible restraints Elaine had set on her, but to no avail. It finally seemed to dawn on her that she was in a precarious position. Immediately, she started speaking, her words low and rushed and agitated.

“I-It’s not an ordinary dagger, Thomas. It’s truly Juliet Capulet’s dagger - or at least it belonged to the doe that the stories are based upon.” She shook her head, glossy auburn waves catching the garish lights of the Strip outside. “The magical kine have had it for centuries, not even knowing how powerful it is.”

“Why is it powerful?” Elaine asked, glaring at the vampire. She was sure she knew the answer, but she needed to hear it.

The succubus was sullenly silent for a moment until she saw Thomas purposely gesture with the gun. Immediately, she hurried on. “The writer – the Bard...he wasn’t _entirely_ wrong. He wrote ‘a plague o’ both your households’, and then both doe and buck die. The dagger was drenched in the blood of someone irrevocably in love.” She eyed the gun in Thomas’s hand nervously. “Put that down, Thomas. I’m telling you the truth.”

Thomas sighed, looking as if he wanted to pinch the bridge of his nose. “That is bullshit, Pen.”

“It’s _true_.” She fidgeted as much against Elaine’s bindings as possible which only made Elaine reinforce them even more, increasing the pressure enough to make breathing difficult for the vampire. She let out a shaky, shallow breath, pale face drawn in apprehension. “Or else why would the humans try to hide it from us for so long? Margaux said-”

“Gee, I don’t know, Pen,” interrupted Thomas, leaning back against the wall. “Family heirloom, maybe? Or it could be that it’s just a story, and the dagger is just a _goddamned dagger._ ”

“Tell that to the other Houses. They’ve wanted to usurp the power ever since what happened in the Deeps, and you know it.”

Elaine saw that Thomas went unnatural still at that. She frowned at him, but found that she couldn’t bring herself to care about White Court politics. She constricted the binding a little more, and a fluttering whimper left the captured vampire’s lips.

“You killed six people searching for it because of your family rivalry? Over a ridiculous _story_?” She was furious, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. The Paranet had been set up to help people before things got too serious, to guide them and offer assistance from things in the supernatural world that threw their weight around as if nothing else in the world mattered. To the heavyweights, they were nothing more than obstacles. Collateral damage.

And now here was this monster in the form of a doe-eyed girl, telling her that she had committed six murders, running after a story, just to get her hands on a dagger that would turn into nothing more than a key for a power play. Mothers were gone. Husbands. Sisters. Friends. For politics. It made her sick.

It was Anna all over again.

A strangled gasp cut through her thoughts, and she only then became aware of the vampire’s lips turning a delicate shade of blue. Some part of her wanted to squeeze a little tighter, to hold the spell a little longer, to watch as life drained out of the selfish bitch. It was a whisper that demanded vengeance for the six men and women killed on a whim for a trinket. _Do this_ , it seemed to murmur, curling hotly around her thoughts. _It’s only fair after what she did. It’s only right_.

No.

It _wasn’t_ right.

With a forced calm, Elaine closed her eyes and let out a long, slow breath. Then, with practiced and graceful ease, she let loose the binding holding Penelope in place, dissolving it with merely a whispered word. Penelope stumbled slightly from the lack of pressure, coughing as air violently rushed back into her lungs. Elaine watched her dispassionately, her gray eyes flat and bitterly cold. This...thing’s death wasn’t going to bring back the others. It just wasn’t worth it.

She was aware that Thomas had been looking at her for a long time, but she didn’t turn towards him or even acknowledge that she knew - let him think whatever he wanted. After awhile, he languidly turned his head away to give his cousin a look as cool as the deepest Arctic winter. “I suggest you go home, Penelope. Miss Mallory is being more than gracious allowing you to live. I can’t say I agree with her choice.”

Penelope gaped at him and when she spoke, there was a breathless quality to it that had nothing to do with lust and more to do with pain. “Thomas...I did it for our family.”

“And what a mess you made. Last time Lara had to clean up after a family member’s mistakes, it was Madeline she had to take care of.”

Penelope blanched.

“Where is the dagger?” Elaine cut in, a no-nonsense tone to her voice. God, she just wanted this to be over. She was tired and frustrated and angry, and she just wanted to find the goddamned dagger and call this case a success. “And don’t say you don’t have it because I really am in no mood to hear it.”

The succubus blinked at her. She looked from Thomas to Elaine, and then back again before saying, “I’ll only give it to you. I don’t want the doe to have it.”

Thomas gave a loose, casual shrug of his shoulder. “Fine. Go fetch.”

Penelope nodded and then took another deep breath that may have been to calm her rattled nerves if it didn’t seemed that it drew more attention to svelte curves than in actually refilling her lungs. She gave a sleep, heavy-lidded blink, her eyes still a fantastically pale gray, and then slowly sidled past Thomas, trying to hide a wince, her lips curved downward in a thoughtful frown.

There was something about that, from the meek acquiescence to the sleepy, graceful movements to the ice-silver of her eyes that sent a warning alarm off in Elaine’s head. She would have believed the slow, pained movements if the vampire’s eyes were still a normal dark blue hue - but they were still very pale.

It was an act.

In a blink, Penelope was whirling on her cousin, her pretty face contorted into a snarl. Thomas reacted less than a split-second after Penelope rounded on him, the gleam of steel clear in her hands. It was still not fast enough and Elaine barely caught sight of the silver dagger - Juliet’s dagger and where in the world had she been hiding it under that fitted dress - flashing against Thomas’s arm as he dodged out of the way to avoid the aim to his heart. He hissed as the blade sliced through the cloth of his suit jacket and shirt and through skin, pale blood welling up along the shallow cut.

The dagger was at Elaine’s throat before she could even instinctively react - Penelope had grabbed her with her free hand and pulled her back with a vicious, powerful yank. Elaine cursed in pain as Penelope twisted her arm behind her back, and then wrapped an arm around her waist in an embrace that would have been intimate if not for the fact that she was holding her tightly enough to make breathing difficult. Both of her arms were pinned - one at her side and the other behind her back, held in place between her body and Penelope’s.

She was also too aware of the ancient dagger sitting just above the pulse at her throat.

 _Too many times I’ve had a knife to my throat for this case_.

“Thomas, I don’t see why you keep throwing in with this lot.” She felt Penelope’s breath brush warmly against her cheek, and a hot rush of desire spread through her. If she had been struggling, she would have stopped - it pulled at her like gravity, dragging her down in a blinding flood and hunger for more. She was only too aware of Penelope’s lips lightly ghosting along her neck, pleasurably warm compared to the cold steel at her throat. “I can’t anyone have this dagger. It has to stay with our family.”

Thomas raised the gun again, keeping it firmly pointed at his cousin. “Pen, I will throw you out the window if you don’t let her go.”

Elaine closed her eyes. _Stop talking..._

“This is what we _are_ , cousin.” Penelope tightened her grip, and Elaine let out a gasp of pain from the pressure against her ribs. She grabbed hold of that pain, something concrete and real, and despite the wave of need that demanded to be satisfied, focused on that to keep from falling to it. “I will do what I have to if it keeps us alive, sacrifices be damned.” Her voice became huskier, thoughtful. “You like this one, don’t you? Respect her.”

“I said _let her go_.”

“I have Margaux.” Her words were soft and if Elaine didn’t know any better, almost sad. “There’s something about the taste of magic...you could have the stubborn doe if you wanted.”

 _Unlikely_. Despite the strangely detached though, Elaine wished for another bottle of Everclear to break over the succubus’s head and light her pretty curls on fire. She was running on empty, but like hell was she going to die being fed to some paranoid vampire in stiletto heels. Even with the dagger at her throat and the horrible pressure against her ribs and the rampant sexual bliss that threatened to overwhelm her, she refused to think that dying here was an option.

She pulled in that stubbornness and longing and frustration, channeling it into a spark that was a fraction of the spells she had been casting earlier. Ignoring the pain and the lust and exhaustion, she opened her eyes and met Thomas’s cold silver glare. Knowing that from this angle Penelope couldn’t see her, she silently mouthed a name.

Understanding immediately sparked in his eyes.

Elaine dimly noticed the tension leak slightly from Penelope’s hold as Thomas lowered the gun. “You’re right, Pen.” He shrugged. “There’s just one problem.”

“What?”

“We spend way too much time around Harry Dresden.”

Elaine’s fingers lightly stroked the pale skin of Penelope’s thigh, the spark - small but strong enough for once simple task - sinking quietly but purposefully into skin and muscle. Penelope let out a cry of surprise and pain as a violent spasm ricocheted through the muscles in her leg, stumbling to the side from the sudden lack of support. It was only an opening of a second or two until she regained her balance, but it was the only opening Thomas needed. She didn’t register his movement from one part of the room to the other, focusing instead on ducking as the gun slammed into the side of Penelope’s head with a painful-sounding crack.

The vampire’s shriek of pain was cut short as another blow from the butt of the gun shattered her collarbone. The dagger fell out of suddenly limp fingers and Elaine sank to her knees as the succubus’s hold on her broke, concentrating on important things like not throwing up or passing out.

She really did have her priorities straight.

Behind her, Penelope didn’t so much melt into the floor as sprawl ungracefully onto it, a violent bruise already forming at her temple. Thomas nudged her slightly with the barrel of his gun, and Penelope let out a curse that was hardly more than whimper. He sighed.

“I really thought Inari would have worn off on you.” He looked down at Elaine, raising an eyebrow in amusement. “A Charley horse?”

“The bitch will live,” Elaine murmured, running fingers through her hair. She noticed Thomas smirking at her and gave him a completely and utterly unimpressed look. “What?”

“Look at you, coming out of two fights with barely any makeup smudged,” Thomas said with a rakish grin. “You’re definitely a Bond girl.” Elaine’s lips pressed into a thin line.

“James Bond and Shakespeare,” she muttered. “What a combination.” She looked over at Penelope’s writhing form with a half-hearted scowl. “What do we do about your dearly beloved cousin?”

“I’ll make a call.”

She would have scoffed if she had the energy. “Of course you will. You don’t have any bullets left?”

His smile became a shade bitter. “She’s young. Naïve. Doesn’t have the common sense God gave a cow. But she’s not like the rest of the family. She doesn’t do deceit. She never was a good liar. Probably the only honest one out of all of us.”

The look Elaine gave him was skeptical. “Honest. Really.”

He laughed quietly. “I said honest, not good.” He looked around the ruined room and sighed. “Besides, it’s not my decision anyway. I’ll get Lara to pick up the pieces.”

Elaine glimpsed the thin but steady trail of pale blood running down his arm. “A scratch?”

“‘ _A plague o’ both your houses_ ,’” Thomas quipped, but Elaine didn’t miss the fact that his eyes were now alarmingly pale and fever bright and there was an undercurrent of dangerous enticement that permeated the air. He ran his hand through his hair as he examined the cut - it was clean and narrow, running several inches down his forearm. “She got lucky.”

“What’s wrong?”

Thomas was very silent and very still for a few seconds, lowering his arm with a wince.

“I hate to admit Pen was right, but I think that dagger was poisoned.”


	6. Chapter 6

_These violent delights have violent ends_   
_And in their triumph die, like fire and powder,_   
_Which as they kiss consume -- II.VI_

oOo

_Poisoned_.

When he spoke, Elaine noticed that there was something very strange about the tone of his voice - seductive and saccharine, something that beckoned pure carnal hunger in her. She fought against it, her thoughts swimming as she tried to focus her concentration on something – _anything_ – else, turning away from him and looking towards Margaux’s prone form. Color was slowly returning to her face and her breathing was becoming less shallow. Elaine closed her eyes – right, there were other things that needed to be taken care of.

“Margaux?”

The young woman let out a whimper that sounded half-pained, half-drugged. She turned her head towards Elaine, lashes fluttering. Her lips worked around words, but no sound came forth.

“Margaux, I need you to wake up.” She cut a sharp look at Thomas, who still had his gun aimed at his writhing cousin. “I need to get her downstairs.” With Thomas in this state, his eyes now as bright as starlight, there was no way he was going to be able to help. The cut along his arm continued to ooze a steady stream of pinkish blood, the usual healing factor that she had associated with vampires refusing (or worse, unable) to kick in. She pursed her lips, suspicion crawling down her spine. “It’s lethal, isn’t it.” Not a question.

“Hurts like a bitch, if that’s what you mean.” He turned away from her, as if the lights of the city below were suddenly far more intriguing. “Now’s not the time for polite conversation, Miss Mallory. I’ll take care of Pen here and find Harry when this is cleaned up. Get Miss Nguyen to the lobby.”

“Harry...?” Both Elaine and Thomas looked back at Margaux who had turned her gaze back towards the ceiling, the feverish stare of someone coming down from a high. “He said his name was Harry...”

Elaine’s eyes widened – so Harry _had_ been there. But that didn’t explain where he was _now_. It had taken two of them to confront both Penelope and the phage, but it wasn’t as if Harry was defenseless - perks of being the Winter Knight and having the Winter Lady be his former apprentice. Plus there weren’t any visible scorch marks on the wall and no lingering presence of his signature magic. She reached forward, and gently placed a calming hand on Margaux’s arm. “Where was he?”

The other woman sat up slowly, her face taut and pale with fatigue. She didn’t seem to register that Penelope was still in the room, dazedly taking in the destruction.

“He...asked me about Ally...and Jason was there too, trying to...” She shook her head, confusion scrawled across her face. “Pen came. She said that she wouldn’t hurt him. There were lights...I can’t remember, it happened so fast...”

“Do you know where he is now?” Thomas’s voice was urgent and Elaine didn’t blame him – honest cousin or not, she didn’t trust that the other vampire would just have let him go away unharmed.

Margaux looked over at Thomas and a small gasp escaped her lips, her pupils dilating and the tips of her breasts swelling beneath her shirt. “Oh...”

Hell’s bells.

“Where is he, Margaux?” Elaine shifted her weight to put herself directly in front of the other woman’s line of sight. She made certain not to meet her gaze for a length amount of time, instead frowning at something just in the middle distance. “Please. This is important.”

That seemed to slowly draw her from foggy state of mind – the woman blinked owlishly and then nodded, shifting her gaze to the floor, cheeks flushed in embarrassment. “I think he went after Jason. Jason was arguing with Pen about the dagger, but she sent the monster after him. I told him...to help Jason. He's important to her. To Ally.” She shivered violently, breath hitching on a sob. “Oh my god, is he dead? Is Jason dead?”

“He was hurt, but he’ll live.” _Hopefully_. “You said Harry went after the phage?”

“Yes...”

Elaine frowned. Barely more than an hour had passed between the fight in the conservatory and in Pen’s room. If Harry had been chasing after the phage or had at least fought it, they would have seen some sign of a fight in the corridor or the stairwell. The timing didn’t add up – the phage couldn’t have grabbed Margaux, ran up the stairs to take her to Penelope, come back down to fight them, and then confront Harry and Jason in such a short period of time. It wasn’t possible unless...

“There were two,” she and Thomas said at the same time. She looked back at him as he shook his head. “It’d explain the blackout and what you felt – it may have been possible for one phage, but considering the power and timing...”

“But that doesn’t explain where Harry is.” She helped Margaux stumble to her feet, keeping her steered away from Penelope.

Thomas shrugged, but Elaine could sense that he was tense and if that concern she had read in him from the soulgaze was any indication... “He wouldn’t have let it get anyone else. Knowing Harry, he probably drew it away and ended up arrested somewhere for disturbing the peace. Might be why you didn’t sense him.”

Elaine considered that as she passed both Thomas and Penelope. Honestly, there was too much they didn’t know – they had been on the upper floors for awhile. Anything could have happened below during the evacuation – and with the number of people streaming from the hotel, the phage would have had easy pickings. She sighed. Thomas was probably right, and Harry had run off to the noble thing as always.

She just hoped the arrest was speculation.

She paused at the foyer, still holding onto Margaux with strength that she really didn’t have – something bothered her about what Thomas had said. She half-turned back to where she could see Thomas standing in the doorway to the destroyed bedroom.

“Before you found Harry, you were going to do what exactly?” Faintly, she heard a buzz build up just behind the walls and then the lights flickered, dimly at first but slowly growing brighter, casting pale light onto Thomas’s dim form, outlined by the bustling city. It lasted only for a few seconds before everything went dark again – the circuits were still overworked from the magic. The entire time he didn’t answer and finally she narrowed her eyes. “You’re going to go feed, aren’t you?”

Thomas flashed a quick and cold warning glare at her. “I am fresh out of noble sacrifices at the moment.”

 _Shit_. Elaine cast a disparaging look down at the still-stunned vampire sprawled on the floor, the dagger held loosely in her elegant, limp fingers, and then down at the trembling woman in her arms. As if anything else could go wrong that night. She remembered what it had felt like to be swept up into a demonic desire, how only a spell and a strong sense of self-preservation had kept her from drowning in it. Without either one, she would have been lost.

And now, someone without that protection was going to be lost by the end of the night, if the poison was as deadly as she suspected. It wasn’t as if she could stop him either. Delay, perhaps, but not stop. He’d either find a way around her or the poison would reach his heart, and he would die. Simple as that.

Harry would be devastated.

She still didn’t know why her first love trusted the vampire so much, but Harry’s word was almost always as good as gold. Trust was a rare commodity, and Harry knew better than to easily pass it out. It was earned, gradually. She may not have trusted Thomas, but she did believe Harry even when it made little or no sense to do so.

On the other hand, people died around them all the time - Elaine knew this, knew that it came with living so closely to the supernatural world. It was inevitable, no matter how hard you tried to run away from it. It followed closely, waiting.

“No - Sydney Carton you’re not,” Elaine finally said wearily, stepping out of the room. She turned her head slightly, but didn’t look back at him. “No one else is going to die from this.”

He snorted. “Wishful thinking, Miss Mallory?”

She turned away from him and sighed. One step at a time. Take care of Margaux first.

It took awhile to get to the staircases – Margaux was practically dead on her feet, coming off the high of being so close to a White Court vampire’s presence. Elaine wasn’t sure if Penelope had fed on her recently – the other woman was showing the signs of withdrawal, the same reactions she had shown when Elaine had first confronted her on the casino floor. She didn't believe in the emotion that Penelope seemed to have shown when speaking about her - they meant to toy on preconceived notions, to prey on one's thoughts and feelings.

Except for perhaps Thomas.

Her grip clinched around Margaux's shoulders, opening the door to the stairwell. To her surprise, she could actually hear voices below - if she had to guess, she would have assumed they were only two or three flights below her and climbing. She paused - one of the voices sounded familiar, an out-of-breath wheezing noise accompanying his words. Was it the same guard from before?

They were getting closer, and Elaine found herself suddenly unsure of what to do. She had already abandoned Jason in order to find the phage. And she knew that there was something that needed to be done about the dagger and about Thomas, but she couldn’t leave Margaux here and hope that the second phage didn’t double back (stars, _Harry_ ) or that the security guards would ask too many questions. She wasn’t even sure the building was still being evacuated. She needed more information, but she didn’t have any time to get it.

Gently, she sat Margaux down on the top step and crouched down next to her. The other woman shivered again, resting her head against the cool metal of the handrail. Not for the first time, Elaine was struck by how young she looked and something hot burned in her chest - another victim, another pawn. She had the right mind to go back to the penthouse suite and finish what she started.

“It’s going to be okay,” Elaine said softly, keeping her voice low as the security guards continued up the stairs. “When the guards get here, I want you to get down to the lobby. As soon as you get a chance, get back home to your stepdad.”

Margaux closed her eyes, exhausted. “What about you?”

Elaine shrugged - there was a faint sense of resolution in that small gesture. “Tying up some loose ends.”

“You’re lying.” She gave Elaine a sleepy dark-eyed frown. “It’s my fault. You shouldn’t- you’re tired. I can see it.”

The voices were closer now - Elaine had seconds at the most. She put a hand on her shoulder and gave her a small smile. “I don’t do this job because it’s easy. Remember what I said.” She rose then, silently heading towards the door.

“You know why it’s poisoned, don’t you?”

Elaine paused, glancing back over her shoulder. Margaux hadn’t even lifted her head. A second passed, two - maybe she had been hearing things. Then Margaux seemed to relax, her eyes drifting shut, as if some secret was being lifted from her shoulders. “Ally's such a romantic. Always dithering on about true love. Juliet _loved_ Romeo. She died loving him...so much...”

She could see the blue of a guard’s uniform. Momentarily confused, she quietly slipped out of the door leading to the stairwell and back to the dim corridor. There wasn’t even an audible click as the door closed behind her, and just beyond the heavy doorframe she could hear voices rise in surprise upon finding someone sitting quietly on the stairs. Elaine closed her eyes and rested her forehead against the wall adjacent to the door.

“I can’t do this,” she murmured quietly to herself, hand clenching into a fist. What was she even thinking? The evening had worn her down, from the chases to the two encounters with the phage to the kiss in a darkened hallway to the soulgaze that had influenced her decision more than she was willing to admit. And then, what Margaux said just now - there was no skirting around the issue. It had been an accidental ritual. Mercutio’s words had ended up bearing truth.

 _A plague o’ both your houses_. He couldn’t have meant...

Elaine could feel her temples throbbing as a headache slowly snuck up on her. Love was deadly to a White Court vampire - _that_ much she knew. The cut along Thomas’s arm had been thin, shallow, but that didn’t change that it still carried something that was a complete bane to him.

And then there was Arthur’s family, carrying that dagger, risking danger if someone found out about it. Who had Romeo and Juliet been, for Juliet’s blood to poison a dagger lethal to a vampire? Moreover, what sort of power could the original Mercutio have possessed to curse the White Court in the first place?

Slowly, she straightened up, stubbornly ignoring the painful migraine. It didn’t matter. Her mind had already been made up in the matter, despite what her instincts were tell her to do: find Harry, get away, forget about another victim, _run_. She had to tell herself this was necessary, to save one more faceless person’s life, to repay an impossible debt to Harry, but she still couldn’t help but think she was making a horrible mistake.

She didn’t even know if the spell would last given her exhaustion.

Survival had always been Elaine’s top priority, and then this foolhardy choice was like jumping into shark-infested waters with no life jacket, no back up plan, dripping blood. Then, of course, there was the dagger itself. She hadn’t come all of this way just to let Thomas stow it away. She kept her promises, and Allison...even if she couldn’t find her, she owed Allison _something_ at least.

 _Brilliant_ , she thought as she edged out into the hallway and began to stride towards the stairs on the opposite send of the hall. Cold anger at the necessity of it all pooled in the pit of her stomach as she descended a few flights in the empty stairwell, stopping on the floor that Thomas’s suite was on. _I picked the wrong night for gallant gestures_.

She didn’t have to wait long for Thomas. She heard him pause just outside the room, probably realizing that the electronic lock was broken. When he came in a moment later, she didn’t even bothering turning to acknowledge his presence. She sat perched on the edge of one of the armchairs, shoes dangling from her hand, looking out at the bustling, glittering streets below, so full of life and energy, light interspersed with darkness. There was primitive magic here in the city, but magic nonetheless.

There was a lengthy pause. Then, “You hexed the lock.”

“I wasn’t about to rappel down the side of the hotel just to get into your room. Where's your cousin?"

"Taken care of." There was a hard, glacial edge in his voice. "Get out."

She spared him a glance - he was standing frozen by the door, his expression completely remote despite the predatory anger burning fervently in his eyes. She saw the frustration and self-hatred and ceaseless hunger churning together, the same that had passed like quicksilver through his voice earlier that evening. He must have realized why she was there, that she was intending to break that fine modicum of self-control that the poison was already slowly robbing him of. And he was _furious_ – at her for being there in the first place and at himself for wanting it. For once she could see past those layers of masks, could see the wild range of emotions etched in his face, and she turned away before she could see more.

The kiss and the soulgaze had damned them both.

“You know I can’t,” she replied after a tense moment, still not meeting his infuriated gaze. “I can’t let you walk out of here and hurt someone.”

_No one else. It has to stop._

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Aren’t you full of heroics tonight, Miss Mallory?” He was already reaching for the doorknob. “Fine. Stay. I’m not responsible for you.”

It may have been the rolling frustration at the entire night or the flare of alarm that he was going to just walk right out into the night in order to feed on some poor wide-eyed girl or just plain stubbornness on her part – either way, a breathe of will went out from her, lighting upon the handle. A bright spark of static flew up the moment Thomas’s fingers brushed the handle, more powerful than normal static electricity had any right to be.

He hissed in surprise and rounded on her, the move not unlike a tiger ready to pounce.

_In his defense, you have to remember Justine._

She rose to her feet with a casual grace that she didn’t feel. If it had been anyone else, she may have hated what she was about to do but she had long ago learned to shove concern aside when there were more important things at stake.

“When did she die, Thomas?”

He stared at her, still as a statue.

And then something seem to crack in his façade, a rush of guilt and loss and rage that flared so quickly in his eyes that she would have missed it if she hadn’t been looking. He was there in front of her before she had a chance to press on. She didn’t offer any apologetic words, nothing to say that the monsters under the bed weren’t real, that the nightmares would vanish with the dawn, the darkness was only strong until a candle burned bright. It wasn’t true.

Everyone tried to overcome their demons and too often, they lost. She knew that and she had used it against him.

“Damn you,” he muttered furiously. “You manipulative bitch. _Damn_ you.”

She still could have left. She could have brushed him off if she concentrated her magic well enough, left the room and its occupant behind. She could have said that the case had practically been solved and anything else was inconsequential. It would have been selfish and it would have been smart and _safe_.

Instead, she only narrowed her eyes, reached towards him and pulled him forcefully into a kiss.

When she kissed him, there was nothing but scorching fury and resigned desperation to it. Magic as tempestuous as a hurricane itself, electric and dangerous, blazed through her, an unspoken spell held at bay by her own will. It would be magic that kept her alive, the same spell she used before that the demon that prowled beneath Thomas’s skin had greedily latched itself on. She didn’t want to think about the fatigue that lingered over her as that insatiable need began to seep under her skin and feed on the magic that coursed through her veins. She felt him pull her closer, lips savagely against hers and the potent scent of spice and gin and something undeniable masculine encompassing her. Her traitorous body wanted to submit, already responding to those kisses and roving touches.

Damn it. Damn it _all_.

She was not some wide-eyed girl that would mewl and whimper at his every touch - everyone had their demons, but she wasn’t going to allow herself to become prey to someone else’s. That same cold lightning that was intrinsic to her sense of self raced through the kiss, but she didn’t wait for Thomas to react to it, didn’t want him to recover so quickly from the shock of pain. She couldn’t lose herself to this, refused to.

She couldn’t be a victim to this - _refused_ to be a victim.

Thomas pushed her backwards, even as something dark and scorching tried to sink beneath her skin and into her mind and take control. She heard something metallic fall to the floor with a heavy clunk, but neither she nor Thomas paid it any attention. She knew she was in a dangerous situation, knew she shouldn’t have challenged something so incredibly life-threatening, but the warnings were just that - warnings. She threaded her fingers through his hair, idly and briefly wondering why she was hit with a momentary wave of déjà vu. It passed quickly though, evaporating in the thrill of the moment, and she was only aware of his body against her, the taste of him on her tongue, and the magic of a storm scalding the air.

Her back hit the partition in the middle of the room and she let out a hiss of pain as the edges of the shelves pressed into the curve of her spine, startled enough to stop her attempts to pull Thomas’s shirt off. She heard something pop, followed the astringent smell of smoke – a glance out of the corner of her eye showed a trail of smoke rising from the flatscreen television they had nearly knocked to the floor.

It occurred to her now that maybe she had done something wrong in feeding the demon magic instead of pure life. The magic was _different_ , something that could very well have been a drug. And the more Elaine pushed, the more Thomas retaliated, neither of them willing to relinquish ground to the other. Her spell was running as a survival mechanism now – conscious thought had been clouded over with something that was dangerously more intoxicating than sexual arousal. More than anything, it was anger feeding that current now. Anger at the necessity of it, anger at everything that had gone wrong, anger at the fact that he knew her vulnerabilities, even without the Hunger winding through her blood.

The shelves were going to leave bruises from the way Thomas was violently pressing her against them, and out of instinct she began pushing him away, nails digging into his skin. She sensed more than saw Thomas’s snarl, feeling his hand brush down her thigh and pushing up the hem of her dress – and she barely managed to stifle a gasp as deft fingers began to stroke sensitive nerves through thin fabric. She nearly lost her grip on the spell and she clenched her teeth to keep from crying out in blinding pleasure, bowing her head forward and trying _very_ hard not to think about how good any of it felt.

 _What are you doing? Don't let him do this. Don't let him toy with you like a puppet._ Her heart was already racing and she could hear the blood pounding in her ears. _Stop. This is enough. It's_ enough. She opened her mouth to choke out a rebuke, but Thomas silenced the words before they were even spoken with a forceful, blistering kiss, muting her protest and turning it into a muffled gasp.

 _You bastard_.

She reached up to touch his neck in what may have been an intimate caress, a romantic notion that was quickly destroyed by the red-hot burst of magic that singed his skin. It was instinct, an unwillingness to give in to anything despite her original intention, and she heard him painfully growl something vicious against her mouth, the pressure from his touch increasing and quickening.

Elaine shuddered, infuriated, and slid her hand down from his chest to work at his belt and zipper. She felt his fingers tighten roughly in her hair (damn, that _hurt_ ) as she slipped her hand underneath cloth and raked her nails down his shaft, following a vein. He groaned into the kiss and she felt herself lifted up slightly and then shoved back violently enough to cause her head to snap back against the separator. The pain she felt was distant, the swimming lightheadedness something to be noted but not overly concerned with especially with the way he was grinding his hips into her hand.

Still, there was an instinctual voice behind the lust and the violence and the resentment that warned her: _something’s off, this isn’t right..._

The pressure from the shelves and his fingers were both suddenly gone as he pulled her away, drawing her (or she was pushing him, it was hard to tell anymore) to the other side of the partition where the bed was, facing Vegas’s carnival-lit Strip. It was almost like a dance – heady and dizzying and graceful. His hands were at her waist, trying to turn her to pin her underneath him but at the last minute, she released another bolt of magic that sent him falling back onto the bed first. He grabbed at her half-zipped dress as he fell, pulling her on top of him in a tangle of arms and legs.

She scowled in an effort to hide her exhaustion, half-straddling him, dark blond hair falling like a curtain and momentarily obscuring her view of the Strip. Her amulet dangled between them, the cool silver catching the far lights of the city and the fountains. For a heartbeat of a moment, they met each other’s eyes - she narrowed hers as he gave a humorless smile, the smile of a hunter, the color nearly completely washed from his eyes. A distant warning of fear and caution shot through her heart - _what am I doing here?_ \- and then he sat up, faster than he had any right to be, hands knotted in her hair and lips burning along her neck.

Red pain laced through her when he abruptly touched the bruised areas of her bare back – dammit, had he really pushed her _that_ hard into the shelves? – and she fought down the urge to scorch his nerves in retaliation with more magic, burning skin and muscle. Somewhere along the way, the line of predator and prey had blurred.

A tremor passed through the spell again, in tune with her body, and she couldn't remember how or when she managed to reinforce it - sudden staggering pleasure had flooded her as his tongue brushed against the hollow of her throat. For one perilous instant, despite everything she thought she had prepared for, she fumbled, a gasped moan slipping from her, desire making her limbs heavy and slow. There was a part of her that suddenly wanted to let him win without a fight, to quietly succumb to his touch. It would be so easy to close her eyes...

 _Just close your eyes - you need this..._ The thought curled around her mind like a fog, as toxic and as lethal as heroin as his fingers slipped inside her. She dug her nails into his shoulders as if he were some sort of anchor, unable to completely smother the shaky gasps coming from her as he brought her to the edge...and then denied her very thing her body was aching for. _You’ll be safe...just forget about everything else except him...he’s the only thing that matters anymore..._

A shiver of pleasure, hips moving against his hand in eager want.

_Forgetting something..._

She captured his groan with her mouth as her own fingers teased and stroked, a muted sense of satisfaction settling in the pit of her stomach.

_Something important..._

She was going to drown.

_Something real._

_This isn’t...this is_ not _what I want._

Light, as erratic as a flame, flew from her hands - it wasn’t powerful, couldn’t be when she was so close to approaching empty, but it did the trick. Thomas’s nearly-colorless eyes widened in surprise and pain and before he could move to retaliate, she closed her mouth over his, wanting and demanding and desperate and _utterly_ enraged. She pressed her body flush against his, feeling his hardness against her thigh and cursing her stupidity. Her heart was beating too fast - she should have _known_. It wasn’t just him. She had been too sure of herself, too angry to make a better decision, and now she couldn’t stop.

Worse, she wasn’t sure she wanted to.

His hands were at her waist against, driving her back with a physical strength she couldn’t hope to hold back. Things stilled - both of them were already gasping and flushed, from pain and from their attempts to keep the other from winning that silent fight. In the fleeting silence, she checked the force of the spell as he pinned one of her wrists over her head (a brief flash to that time from the mall and her breath hitched at the memory). She should have been outraged, but she realized that the hunger was driving itself into a frenzy and had essentially tangled itself in her magic – that’s what she wanted, wasn’t it?

 _It’s not going to last forever._ She knew that the moment she wavered would be her death sentence - she wouldn’t have the energy to call it back. A small sliver of concentration would keep her alive, even though it was waning beneath rampant, carnal desire as she brushed her leg against his. She arched up against the already tangled sheets just as without warning he thrust into her, his lips meeting hers to silence her startled curse.

She raked her nails down his back as ecstasy washed over her, trying not to lose that strand of sanity that kept her anchored. Even in the disorienting uproar of touch want need that flooded her senses, she was dimly reminded of the Skavis, whispering sinister thoughts that sank deep into her soul. This was similar, but rather than despair, there was a frantic need to lose herself in that seduction as she rocked her hips up to meet his. She _had_ to remember that.

The voice that had murmured longing to her was still there, yes, but it was ultimately distracted by the spell she had fabricated, as intricate as a spider’s web.

Fury and resentment nearly as aggressive as the desire itself coursed through her as she writhed under him. She refused to whisper his name, even as his lips left hers to kiss the pulse point sitting in the slender curve of her neck, refused to give him the satisfaction of even that lest everything come tumbling down. She felt his free hand wander down her side, and she tried not to quiver as he roughly slipped his grip under her leg, the touch like fire against already sensitive skin.

His grip on her wrist continued to bruise despite her efforts to slip out of his grasp and for that, she drew too-pale blood from where her nails burrowed into his skin. He hissed at the pain, baring his teeth against her throat. The demonic voice of lust that lurked like a drug burned painful against her mind, and she tilted her head back with a choked gasp as his hips shifted to move deeper and faster into her.

 _Don’t_ , a small voice warned in the moments that drifted and sped by, battling with an even baser, honey-sweet murmur - _touch him, taste him, want him..._

It was a losing battle. She couldn’t hold back a cry, arching beneath him as fire flooded her veins, every bit as malignant as a literal flame. Greenish-white sparks slipped from her clenched fingers, sinking into hard muscle and that was all it took - she felt his moan against her mouth, the last and hottest vestiges of that supernatural hunger that sought life surging as he came.

_No..._

The world turned white hot. The spell splintered, razor-edged, but didn’t break – it was a hideous pain that turned every other thought and every other concern to ash. A chill that had nothing to do the cool air against her damp skin crept through her as that hunger raced forward, looking to claim her soul and her magic and the life that flowed through her.

_No, no, no..._

She didn’t know how long it lasted, pain and pleasure swirled to the point that it was difficult to tell them apart, but when she finally opened her eyes what felt like an eternity later it felt as if her entire body was made of lead and ice. She shivered involuntarily and then recoiled as she tried to lift her head - the whole room tilted at an alarming angle and she collapsed back onto the twisted sheets, nausea bubbling in her stomach. She couldn’t focus on anything; excruciating pain pounded away at her skull to the point that she couldn’t keep her eyes open any more.

The magic that she had been throwing around tonight, with its complexities and subtle nuances, had finally caught up to her, demanding that she pay the price.

Stars, it _hurt_.

_Should never have...if only for one faceless person..._

Over the din of mental agony, she thought she heard someone calling her name.

“Elaine? _Elaine_!”

_Harry...?_

It hurt so much and she was so goddamn _tired_...

She felt someone’s hand - warm and familiar and strong - touch her bare shoulder. She thought dimly that it was meant to be comforting.

It felt as if it had incinerated her flesh and muscle to the bone.

She convulsed at the gentle touch, a gasp of pain strangled in her throat, and then she collapsed, too tired to fight any of it anymore, allowing the darkness to completely draw her in.


	7. Chapter 7

_All are punish’d. -- V.III_

oOo

The boardwalk hadn’t yet gained its usual crowds that morning – the last wisps of fog were just beginning to dissipate under the white Californian sun and the beach itself was nearly empty save for the screeching gulls swooping low overhead in search for food. The early rush of joggers and bikers dominated most of the boardwalk, and a few straggling tourists – wide-eyed and running off coffee from the local cafes – joined them in the unusually quiet serenity.

Elaine sat on a bench outside of one of those cafes, watching the pale orange and blue daylight rise over the Pacific Ocean. There was something peaceful about dawn, sublime and resolute, and she remembered, back before everything had gone to hell, that she would always wake up before either Harry or Justin, no matter what time she had fallen asleep. Mornings were hers - had always been and would always be. Maybe it was no wonder that she had fled to Aurora of all people when things had gone horribly wrong – and it was the only time that the dawn had been less filled with light than she had come to expect.

Someone sat down next to her and pressed a Styrofoam cup of coffee into her hand. A small smile slipped onto her face. “You know me too well.”

“When are you leaving?”

“I catch a train in about two hours.”

Arthur Montecchi nodded, sitting back on the bench. Ever since Allison’s disappearance, he seemed to have aged years, more worry lines around his eyes and mouth than laugh lines now. “You trust the people you’re working with?”

Elaine glanced over at him. “I know him. He’s a good man.”

“Does he trust _you_?”

Elaine fell silent at that. Now there was a question for the ages. She had given him more than enough reason to question her loyalties over the years, and she had used his faith in her to sometimes get ahead in a case or a scheme. There really was no reason for him to trust her after everything she had done but she knew from the moment that Harry had called her and asked for her to meet him in Las Vegas to settle the case that nothing would really change.

Harry wasn’t stupid though. He learned from his mistakes. Elaine had to admit that at times, she had been a mistake – a very dangerous one. Still...

She let out a long, slow breath. “He trusts me to do the right thing.”

“And you’ll do the right thing.” It wasn’t a question.

She laughed and despite her best efforts, there was a bitter quality to it. “What I _think_ is the right thing usually doesn’t measure up to what _other_ people believe is the right thing. Something about conflicts of interest.” She waved her hand to cut off his argument. “I’ll do my best, Arthur, but I can’t promise that I’ll return Allison safe and sound. Or Margaux for that matter.”

Montecchi leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. A small breeze was kicking up off the ocean, sending white-capped gray-blue waves crashing into the beach and causing the gulls to fly off-kilter over the boardwalk. “You think this is ridiculous, don’t you?”

Elaine shrugged. “I never suspect anything at face value, if that’s what you mean.”

“I know you don’t. But you still don’t believe in the story, and if you don’t believe the story then I’m not sure you’ll understand why I’ve done what I’ve done.”

 _But that’s just it – you haven’t done anything wrong, Arthur._ She brushed a loose strand of wheat-blond hair behind her ear with sigh. Reasons were usually inconsequential – whenever cases were brought to her, she was never looking at _why_ they happened in the first place but how to get them solved. It was the results that mattered to her. Whether or not the tale of Romeo and Juliet (or whatever names they had gone by in the past) happened to be true, it didn’t change the fact that Allison was still missing, Margaux had nearly cut herself off from her family, and the dagger was nowhere to be found.

“It doesn’t matter if I believe or not,” Elaine replied after a moment, her voice quiet and tired. “You’re not paying me to believe. You’re paying me to find your daughter and this dagger.”

He placed a hand on her knee, a familiar gesture that she wouldn’t have allowed just anyone. “You don’t have to be bitter. We see many things, Elaine. Would it be too much to stretch the imagination, to believe that once upon a time, a girl loved a boy so much that she would rather follow him in death than live without him?”

Elaine glanced over at him for a moment and then silently rose to her feet, sweeping up her purse as she did so. Montecchi looked up at her, a sad and tired smile tugging at his lips. It was a look that bordered on pity (even though she had known him long enough to realize that he never would have dared feel sorry for her), and she turned away to look back out at the ocean. “People have been doing stupid things for love for ages, Arthur. I don’t see why this case is any different.”

“Because of what they represent,” Arthur said promptly, shaking his head. “What they will always represent – something more powerful, more mysterious, and more true than any magic that we can use.”

It was never as simple as that. People and places and time had a horrible habit of ruining things. She didn’t say that aloud, only nodded her head at Montecchi and turning on her heel to leave. Behind her, she thought she heard him sigh but she didn’t turn around to offer any farewells.

She had a train to catch.

oOo

It started off as most of her dreams usually did – with a fire.

It was always hard to tell where the fire was situated; despite the white-hot inferno raging several dozen feet towards the sky (or the ceiling), the rest of the area was as black as obsidian. There were a number of places and events that could have been burning from her memories, but there was one in particular that those dreams, those nightmares, always singled back to – the night Harry had fought against Justin.

As if encouraged by her memory, the conflagration burned hotter and stronger, the stench of burning wood and metal and the sickening smell of smoldering flesh and muscle and blood flooding the air. She stumbled backwards from it, feeling dry grass snap and tear beneath her feet as she choked on thick, toxic smoke. Flames lashed out at her, hungry and fierce, and she kept backing away, gagging on the fumes, tears running down her face. It hadn’t been like this, had it? All of those years, and the memories from that time were still muddled, distorted. She remembered running, Justin’s spell slowly slipping away from her. She had been hurt, confused, and scared.

She felt something up against her back as she tried to continue moving away from the flames – something cold and painful, biting into the ridges of her spine. She stifled a cry of panic, gripping at the edge of whatever fiercely pressed into her back. The tongues of flame licked closer to her, near enough that she could see their hypnotizing sapphire core. She remembered that, recalled seeing those flames close enough to burn skin to bone and hearing an entire childhood come crashing down around her, violent and swift and sure.

It was a primitive fear, but one of those that she hadn’t quite been able to overcome. She closed her eyes, knowing this was a dream, a nightmare, but unable to shake that coppery fear that settled in her blood. She tried to calm it, tried to beat it back with logic and reason, but...

“This isn’t real,” she murmured, even as she heard it roar and grow. “It’s not real. It’s not...”

And then there was a different fire that burned, blistering not skin and muscle but soul. A heady scent descended on her like a cloud, a familiar smell of strong but not overwhelming cologne - Thomas. She felt something warm and sensual brush against her temple, her lips, her jaw; his hands ghosted down her side to her hips, pulling her close enough to him that she could feel his hardness against her stomach. She let out a small, angry sound of warning – didn’t he see the fire behind them, raging close enough to ignite them both?

She tried to pull away, digging at the fury and fear that made her movements clumsy, but her own body had betrayed her, molding against him in a fit of lust. Clothes were torn off even as she felt the heat from the fire grow hotter as it came close – dammit, they were going to die if they didn’t move, didn’t he know that? But it was if someone else were controlling her body – she had become a marionette, hands tangled in his dark hair, moving against toned, sweat-slicked skin with an almost animalistic urgency.

She felt sick but a part of her wanted this. Even as the flames crawled closer, the golden-red light was nothing compared to the silver in his eyes. In her mind, she was screaming, trying to fight back, to push him away, to run, but each thought of resistance was turned to ash and smoke with a kiss, a touch, a caress.

Over all of it – the fire, him moving deeper and faster inside of her, the roar of everything – she was sure she was going to die, and there was nothing she could do about it.

She was trapped.

_No, no...I can’t...please..._

And then something loud ricocheted through the smoke and the fire and the want and it sounded like a half dozen nuclear bombs going off in her head.

She let out a pained groan, daring to open her eyes a fraction – and immediately regretted it. White sunlight pierced through the window directly across from the bed, filtering through the curtains and across the rumpled sheets and directly into her eyes like a rusty blade. She buried her face in the nearest pillow with a curse that sounded more like a whimper because of its lack of vehemence, and wondered why in the world she felt as if she had the worst hangover known to man.

She tried to sort out her muddled thoughts and to clear out the fog that seemed to have settled on her memory from the previous night and the cobwebbed dream. She remembered everything that had led up to the fight in Penelope’s room (and hot anger flared up at the thought of the vampire), Margaux, and then...she stopped.

“ _Shit_ ,” she breathed, sitting up in the bed. Vertigo swept over her for a moment and then passed as she looked around the room...or rather, the half of it she could see.

“You’re finally awake.”

He was sitting on the arm of the chair closest to the window with a cup of coffee in his hands, watching the Strip below bustle with the pale gold light of morning. Precariously, he set the mug down on the other chair’s arm and crossed over to the bed cautiously. He didn’t exactly look embarrassed, but neither did he look entirely too comfortable from the way she was glaring at him.

After a few seconds of silent tension, Thomas sighed and finally reported, “Harry gets out of jail this morning. I’m going to go pick him up.”

It took her a moment to process that and when she did speak, her voice sounded raw and exhausted. “When the hell did he get arrested?”

“Sometime after we first encountered Pen’s gift to us last night. Something about a demon-possessed Elvis, a vengeful bride, and a stolen Snickers bar.” He paused and then added, “He did take care of the second phage, by the way. Blew it up inside one of those chapels. The fire department wasn’t happy with him.”

“At least he’s okay.” She ran a hand through her hair and began skimming the room for her dress, hoping that it was still in one piece. She felt Thomas’s eyes on her and a feeling that was a mix of annoyance and anger sunk into her skin, hot and vicious. It took a moment of taking a few, steadying deep breaths to keep from turning around and glaring at him. Instead, she muttered, “Are you going to help me or just stare?”

She heard him give what could have been a laugh in another life. "I have a feeling if I come any closer, Miss Mallory, you're going to shove me out the window."

Elaine shrugged, unnerved by the complete lack of theatrics from either of them. It would have served him right, all things considering but... "The thought crossed my mind." She sat back against the pillows and the headboard, closing her eyes and momentarily quitting her search for her dress (if it was still in a decent state to be worn in). Her head throbbed gleefully as if to remind her that yes, the headache was still there, her entire body felt as if she had run some sort of godforsaken triathlon and - oh right, she had slept with Thomas Raith.

She felt the bed shift with someone else's weight and a strange silence fell on the room. She didn't know what he was thinking (and to be honest, she didn't particularly care) - she was more concerned about the whereabouts of the dagger. She was sure she had heard it fall last night before... _before_. The repercussions from last night...she didn't want to think about those, didn't want to think about how she had been foolish enough to let her guard down, regardless of her reasons. It was a miracle she wasn't dead - or worse, addicted to that pull that all White Court vampires had.

"Did your arm heal?" she finally asked quietly.

"Hmm? Oh. Yeah. Not even a scratch."

Well, there was something. At least Harry's friend wasn't in danger of falling over dead. _The magical powers of sex_ , Elaine thought dryly before swinging her legs over the side of the bed. The room tilted at a nauseating angle, and she had to dig her fingers into the sheets to keep from keeling over right there. After what had happened the previous night, that display of weakness would have been completely humiliating. Instead, she bit her lip over a slight groan of dizziness and instead focused on keeping her balance.

It was only then that she noticed a faint bruise circling her wrist, a half-inch or so above the long faint line from where she had slit her wrist some years ago. She remembered how Thomas had pinned her wrist over her head last night ( _mouth against the hollow of her throat, hips grinding against hers, trying to control gasps and moans of pleasure_ ) and she shook her head to clear her memories. A shiver ran through her that had nothing to do with the temperature of the room - goddammit, she had been stupid. Anything could have happened, and she had just gone with it, hoping for the best despite her exhaustion and everything else.

 _Don't fall apart now_ , Elaine thought as she closed her eyes, feeling her throat getting tight with panic. _You just need the dagger and this can be over and forgotten_.

She tried to remember where she had heard it fall last night, feeling magic prick at her bare skin. It wasn't much of a spell, at least not compared what she could usually do, but it would have to do. It left her in a whirlwind of energy and she nearly slumped against the pillows and rumpled sheets again, biting her lower lip to keep a gasp from escaping her. The bed shifted again, and she froze, an uncomfortable tingle on the back of her neck that told her that she was being watched.

Anything. Just...

“What do you want to do about...this?” She didn’t say ‘us’ because as far as she was concerned, there was something unacceptably concrete and finite about that word. There were and would always be too many strings attached to ‘us’, too many complications that were already now tangled past recognition. Let him figure out a way to solve this problem - she didn't want to think about what Harry would say if and when he found out.

Thomas didn’t respond right away and when she glanced sharply over her shoulder, she briefly glimpsed the silver lancing through his eyes before he looked away and shrugged. “Hell if I know. I don’t exactly go around trying to sleep with people who want to kick my ass six ways to Sunday.”

She paused. “Then what happened was...”

“A first for me.” He looked back at her, a tired smirk on his face. “And since you’re not dead, I take it that was to be expected.”

There were worse things for certain. Elaine absently moved a stray strand of hair behind her ear, unsettled for no reason. On one hand, she thought, everything had gone smoothly in the city - the phage had been found, the stray White Court demon that had been causing the ruckus effectively silenced (and she supposed that they at least had Thomas’s sane family to thank for that), and the Bellagio was back to its usual lavish and decadent ways. More importantly, the hotel was still somehow intact and Harry, despite having to spend the night in a jail cell, was at least still alive.

On the other...

She felt that heady desire slip across and sink under her skin, reaching for that same magic that had fed its appetite hours earlier. She closed her eyes as silence settled into the room, save for the faraway roar of the bustling city stories below, and knew that this was beyond stupid and borderline suicidal. Lust began to burn in the pit of her stomach, insatiable and furious, as her hands clenched into fists.

There was something else, something he wasn't saying.

“What,” Elaine asked coldly, half-leaning on one of the far-too-expensive pillows, “are you _possibly_ conflicted about now?”

“It's different with you,” Thomas replied quietly, barely restrained frustration edging his tone. Elaine looked back at him - he was rubbing at his eyes absently, slowly. He didn't look like a predator at that moment - instead, he suddenly looked very, very tired. She turned away before she could sympathize even more - everything was dangerous enough with what had happened. She heard him lower his hand, falling quiet again for a moment and then adding with a trace of exhaustion in his voice, "Whatever spell you used, I mean."

"I kept myself alive." Elaine climbed to her feet, grasping the edge of the room divider to keep from falling over. "Don't think it means anything."

"I didn't say that, Miss Mallory." There was something too casual about the words, and Elaine held back her caustic reply. She rested her forehead against the coolness of the divider, willing her headache to vanish and for memories of the previous night to go away. So many things gone wrong, so many things solved. It didn't matter.

Despite herself, she murmured, "I thought you were Harry after...after."

She felt more than saw Thomas's turn and blink. "Pardon?"

"When you called my name. I thought you were Harry." It was an idiotic thing to say, to admit. But it was true, no matter how odd it had been. And whatever it meant broke the strenuous hold she had on her headache and the nausea and she doubled over, barely reaching the nearest trashcan before she began retching. There wasn’t much in her stomach to start with so after a few painful moments, the vomiting turned into several dry heaves, leaving her shivering and dizzy on the floor of the hotel room.

She didn’t hear Thomas approach, but she did notice the small glass of water he held out to her from where he crouched down near her. She eyed the glass of water as she would a poisonous snake and shook her head. Thomas scoffed. “It’s just water, Miss Mallory. You probably have a concussion.”

“I’m fine.”

“The trash bin states otherwise. Here. Drink up.”

She almost shook her head again, but a quick stab of pain at her temples told her that it would be better not to do anything except find a nice pillow to collapse on for the next century. Letting out a breath that sounded more like a hiss than a resigned sigh, she took the water from him and quietly drank it. The water wasn’t especially cold, but it felt like sheer relief. She did however cringe at the bitter aftertaste in her mouth, placing the cup down on the carpet to rub at her eyes tiredly.

Neither of them said anything for several moments. Then, she heard Thomas rise to his feet, murmur something about going to fetch Harry, and then head towards the door. She thought she heard him pause, almost in confusion at first, then to seem to think better of it, closing the door behind him.

Elaine thought about just curling back up in the bed, brushing away everything that had happened as a bad dream. But that thought reminded her of the nightmare that had come just before waking and with a grimace, she unsteadily rose to her feet and glanced at the other half of the suite.

The room looked messier than it had when she had shown up the previous night. The flatscreen television had all but been knocked to the floor (and she doubted it would work again, all things considering), and she realized belatedly that even the divider was skewed from its perfect position facing the curved windows of the room. A chair had been knocked over, along with several bottles and drinking glasses on the dining room table. One had fallen to the carpet, spilling what may have been an amber-colored liquid into the carpet itself.

Elaine sighed.

A search for her dress resulted in disappointed – it had basically been torn in two from berserk desire last night. However, she did find a bag of newer, far more expensive clothes sitting on the mostly-unharmed armchair. She briefly wondered exactly how long Thomas had been awake and why he thought Chanel was the answer, but buried the thought and quickly dressed in black slacks and a sleeveless green blouse. She pulled her hair back into a functional ponytail before looking swiftly around the room, trying not to think about how she had helped put it in its current state.

Trying to decide if she should have even bothered putting anything back straight, the landline suddenly rang loudly enough to startle her.

 _On edge much?_ she thought cynically before reaching for the phone. Hopefully, it wasn’t Thomas saying that she needed to bring bail for two people. “Hello?”

There was a long pause on the other line before a smoky sweet contralto replied over a quiet roll of static, “I might have called the wrong room. Is Thomas there?”

Elaine narrowed her eyes at the phone. There was something about the voice, something that reminded her faintly of a drug – intoxicating and addicting. "No, he stepped out. Is this the front desk?"

The other speaker laughed almost carelessly, bells and sensuality and hunger rolled into one. "Nothing so rudimentary, I'm afraid. I'm just returning a call that he made earlier." The amusement still colored her voice, honey-soft and soothing, as she continued, "And whom do I have the pleasure of speaking with? Tommy neglected to tell me of any guests he was having over."

"I make it a habit of making sure word doesn't get out," Elaine replied, raising an eyebrow at the nickname. "Can I take a message?"

There was a long pause and then the woman hummed thoughtfully - Elaine imagined that she was shrugging. "I suppose. Tell him that everything is taken care of - he needn't worry about anything else."

“And which family member should I say is calling?”

Silence fell. Then the woman chuckled faintly and Elaine couldn’t shake the feeling that she was laughing at her. “Is it so wrong for a sister to make sure her little brother is okay?”

“He called you last night, didn’t he? You’re the one cleaning up after Penelope.”

“Does it matter to you? It is family business, after all.” She noted that there was no irritation in her voice – that same strand of amusement still wove its way through her words, as slippery and pungent as smoke.

“What happened with your cousin involved several dead bodies and a few of my clients.” Cradling the phone between her ear and her shoulder and frowning as the static became slightly stronger, she wondered if this was also the same person that Thomas had suspected of being behind the theft in the first place. “I make it my business to know.”

There was an infuriating, knowing smile in the woman’s voice now. “I hope you don’t think that just because you slept with my brother means you’re suddenly privy to family secrets.”

Elaine cursed silently. It wasn’t something she wanted to be reminded of and it was enough to start her headache pounding even more fiercely. “Worth a try. Are you done with throwing up a smoke screen or are you still going to not answer my question?"

"It seems less of a question and more of an accusation. Your prejudices are showing."

She really didn't want to play word games, not after last night or through a probable concussion. She frowned over the building pressure of a headache and tried not to throw down the phone in frustration. "It's hardly a prejudice knowing how vampires function."

"You should watch what you say, pet. Sooner or later, your words are going to catch up with you and you won't be prepared for those consequences."

"Is that a threat?"

Another laugh, warm and inviting and damned. "You should know something about me, Miss Mallory - I don't idly make threats." Elaine's grip on the phone tightened, but before she could accuse the woman of making her point, she heard a click followed by the dial tone. She stared blankly at the phone for a second or two before scowling and hanging it up.

Vampires. Impossible creatures.

Elaine debated going downstairs to the lobby to find a bottle of aspirin (it was around that time where downing the entire bottle sounded like a great idea), but instead found herself quietly sinking onto the couch. It was beautiful and tasteful and extremely uncomfortable, but at the moment, she could have called a bed of Legos comfortable. She didn't intend to fall asleep again, not after that nightmare, but her head, heavy from the pain of the headache, slowly fell back onto the arm of the couch.

She may have drifted off at some point – she was fuzzy on the details and the steady ache just behind her eyelids didn’t help, but at least there was no nightmare of fire or Thomas or death lurking in her thoughts. One moment she was silently wishing for her headache to die a horrible and painful death and in the next, she heard quiet muttering on the other side of the door before it swung open.

When she finally sat up, she saw Harry standing in the doorway. He looked tired. There were dark circles under his eyes and his hair was standing up on end (even more than it usually did) and he was in need of a shave to get rid of the shadow along his jaw. There was also a nasty bluish bruise crawling from his temple to his chin that would have been intriguing if it didn’t look painful. But he still gave her a grin as he leaned against the doorframe, long billowing duster showing signs of some abuse.

“Score one for the good guys.”

Elaine smiled at him as she sat up. “You look horrible.”

“I heard this look is very dashing in some circles.”

“Those circles are usually of the cardboard box variety.” She watched as Harry’s gaze swept over the room, his eyebrow slowly rising at the destruction. A part of her wondered if Thomas had told him anything – if he had, she was seriously going to take him up to the highest floor of the Bellagio and push him out of the window, no questions asked. Glibly, she remarked, “The cleaning staff is going to have an apoplexy.”

“No one knows how to throw a party like Thomas,” agreed Harry, and Elaine let out a mental sigh of relief. “I heard you all managed to find a cousin of his running around the hotel. You got the dagger?”

Elaine looked around the room. “It’s around here somewhere unless he took it with him. Did you find out anything before your run as a felon?”

“Oh. Haha. Hahaha. This hilarity, I can’t take it.” Harry arched an eyebrow at her before working his way around the disastrous room and settling himself on the other end of the couch. “Fincherphage went down after a few blows to the face and a chapel roof collapsing on its head, but I got tangled up in the glitz of Vegas. Did you know there are a lot of mean-spirited goblins that run about this city at night?”

“A lesson learned every day.”

Harry snorted. “Didn’t think I’d have to exorcise a demon-possessed King though. Can you believe me they arrested me for disturbing the peace?” Elaine gave him her most incredulous stare and he made a face at her in return. “How are Margaux and Jason?”

“Hospitalized, as far as I know. I need to check up on Margaux before I leave.”

Harry leaned back into the couch, crossing his arms. “You’re leaving right away?” She gave him a small, tired smile and nodded – there really was no reason to prolong the inevitable and the sooner she got away from Thomas, the better. Harry sighed, the melancholy noise belied by the humorous gleam in his eyes. “I’m starting to think that you don’t like spending time with me, the way you bounce off after cases like this.”

She blinked, and then smiled again as she leaned forward to brush a kiss against his cheek. Standing up, she resisted the urge to stretch lest the sudden rushing blood knock her right back to the couch. “Maybe I figured that you’ll need my help again soon enough anyway.” Going over to pick up her discarded purse, she added, “Would it be too much to ask you to stay out of a trouble for a few months?”

“I like to live my life on the wild side.”

“Well, try to fulfill your Neanderthal tendencies to light your hair on fire when it won’t be winter.” She expected a groan-worthy rebuttal, but only found Harry frowning up at her curiously, which she returned cautiously. “Too much to expect?”

“We work well together.”

She laughed quietly. “We do. Even if you do end up in jail.”

“You and Thomas work well together.”

She stiffened, hands freezing just above her bag. Straightening up, she looked back at Harry who was now wearing a completely unreadable expression, one that she knew was currently mirrored on her own features. After a few seconds of silence, she shrugged and slipped her purse over her shoulder. “He’s trustworthy enough, I suppose.”

He pursed his lips, looking as if he wanted to say more, but the look Elaine gave him seemed to be enough to kill whatever thought was on his mind. “Those were new spells from last night. You’ve been practicing.”

Elaine didn’t meet his eyes as she brushed past the couch towards the door. “I could say the same for you.”

“Elaine. Wait.”

She sighed, feeling the muscles of her shoulders bunch together at the quiet and direct murmur of his words. She stopped, but didn’t turn – she didn’t want this right now. She didn’t need it. If she saw that confusion or betrayal or accusation in his voice, she wouldn’t be able to finish this case and she needed it be done and forgotten. She closed her eyes, wishing her headache awake, wishing the soreness of her body away, and wishing that nothing had happened that had brought all three of them to a nest of vipers and decadence.

When he didn’t say anything, she said, “I didn’t take the dagger, Harry.”

He was quiet for a moment. Then his voice came from just over her shoulder – she hadn’t even heard him get up. “We do stupid shit sometimes. A lot, even. Hell, you only have to look at me and my choices to know that.” He paused and then plundered on, “We did a good job last night, Elaine. We came and did what we said we would and most importantly, no one died.”

She laughed humorlessly. “Well, there’s that.” She turned back to him, saw him standing less than an arm's length away. She smiled up at him, a tired and sad smile that took more energy than she cared to admit. "I know we did. But there's still something I have to do."

"Elaine..."

"Trust me, Harry." Something flickered in his dark eyes and her smile slipped a bit. She had thought so, but then again she had given him enough reason not to trust her. She always would, inevitably. She lifted a hand to gently stroke his cheek, reminded of summers long ago in another life. Those memories were few and dusty with age, but she still remembered them fondly. "Call me once you get back to Chicago, okay?"

He rubbed the back of his head and then nodded. "Yeah. Of course. The train shouldn't crash."

Her lips tilted upwards into a smile again, and she kissed him once more. "Take care of yourself, Harry." She turned then, closing the door behind her with a muted click.

She hadn't told him what she had done and now something bothered her – she didn’t feel guilty, but there was a mote of hesitation flickering through her mind. And there was something else that dug into the back of her mind, something about this entire case that didn’t feel right. True, the past few hours had been anything but normal, and there were certainly enough unsavory characters running about that it would have been normal to feel uneasy. Elaine headed down the hallway towards the stairs, her grip tightening around the straps of her purse.

It was something about Arthur and his constantly cryptic messages. Then there was Jason, caught up in this scheme to help his girlfriend and his girlfriend’s sister – but help them with _what_? Penelope hadn’t had the dagger all along – the string of bodies, all tied back to the Montecchi family, meant that she had either been threatening the family through Margaux or was crossing off a list of possible dagger wielders. It didn’t explain how Penelope had known that family had the dagger in the first place – did the relationship begin before or after she discovered that the Montecchi family held a very famous heirloom? Or maybe it had been Jason, intent on selling the damn thing, who had caught Penelope’s attention.

Elaine shook her head. Allison and Margaux both admitted that it was rare for non-blood descendents to know about the dagger. Penelope must have found out through Margaux, who had been so enthralled by a White Court vampire’s enticement, she probably hadn’t even realize she had let the secret out. But the same reasoning did _not_ apply to Jason who had known about the dagger and tried to sell it.

Stranger still, before she had come to Nevada, Arthur had chastised her for not believing in the story. _But you still don’t believe in the story, and if you don’t believe the story then I’m not sure you’ll understand why I’ve done what I’ve done._

_But what did you do, Arthur?_

_”He let me and Mo keep our dad’s last name even after...well, after.”_

She suddenly stopped. She had never asked Arthur about the dagger’s inheritance – if it was rare for non-blood descendents to even _know_ about the dagger, it would have been impossible for either Margaux or Allison to inherit the dagger or the curse...unless there was someone else intimately involved with their family. Someone who would know about the dagger and the curse.

Somehow who inherited the Montecchi blood if not the Montecchi name.

_A plague o’ both your houses..._

_When did she die, Thomas?_

"Of course," she murmured as the puzzle quietly clicked into place with an almost absurd finality. She debated about going back to the room and using the phone but she didn’t want to stumble across Harry again. No, the hotel would have to have one in the lobby. Hopefully, Thomas wasn't milling around downstairs anywhere to eavesdrop.

She hurried down to the lobby and towards the front desk. It was late morning, but the city of Las Vegas usually only woke up towards the end of the day – it was still strangely quiet in the lobby itself, and she guessed that last night’s blackout hadn’t helped the hotel’s popularity. More guards than usual, interspersed with coffee-wielding electricians, littered the area. Elaine knew that they weren’t going to find anything helpful in trying to guess the source of the blackout and approached the front desk with a frown, interrupting a young lady who was cheerfully gossiping with her coworkers over Starbucks.

“May I use your phone?”

“Huh? Oh, right. Sure.”

If she had been a regular patron of the hotel, Elaine thought she may have found something lacking their service but she shrugged it off, dialing a familiar number. It wasn’t every day that a phage and a succubus ran through your workplace, stealing Shakespearian daggers, and causing blackouts – she could gossip about whatever she wanted. Elaine turned away from the group behind the desk, cradling the phone on her shoulder.

The phone rang about four times before a man picked up. His voice was fatigued, slow. “Hello?”

“Good morning, Jason. This is Elaine Mallory.” She heard Jason breathe in sharply and quickly continued, her voice calm but steely, “You recognize my real name. I thought as much. Arthur probably told you about me.”

She could Jason’s slow, steady breathing, as if he were debating whether or not to answer her or not. Finally, the silence must have unnerved him. He said, “I don’t talk to my dad much since Mom died a couple of years back. Makes it easier on everyone.”

“I guess dating your dad’s stepdaughter makes things easier too.”

“It’s not like that,” Jason growled, although his excessive injuries and the exhaustion that came with it made it sound much more feeble than he probably intended. “I like Ally, okay? No one needs to have the Montecchi name hanging over them like it does for me. She and Margaux are lucky they didn’t inherit the name when their mom married my dad.”

Elaine closed her eyes. _Oh, Jason._ “It wasn’t Margaux who told Penelope about the dagger. It was you.”

She almost _heard_ Jason clench his jaw. “It was a mistake, me and her. A stupid mistake. And that stupid fucking curse.” He let out a choked sound that may have been a laugh. “Can I ask you something, Miss Mallory? Have you figured it out? Have you figured out who the Montagues and Capulets are? I hope you burn that dagger.”

She knew. She realized she had known the moment she used that emotional leverage against Thomas and Jason only confirmed it by admitting to his relationship with Penelope. Trying to keep her voice even, she replied, “I know. Tell me what happened to Allison.”

“I don’t know what you me-”

“Where’s Allison?”

Elaine didn’t much care for trying to play sweet, understanding investigator at the moment – not if she was right about her hunch. She waited for a moment before Jason whispered, “A hospital outside of San Fran. It...it was my fault. Penelope was just so goddamn insistent and...I should have known better. Should have known about that damn curse, the way dad used to talk about it all the time.”

“You’re the one who’s supposed to inherit the dagger then?”

“Supposed to. It was either me or my sis. But she...” Pain entered into his voice. “She disappeared years ago. Ran away from home. Who knows? Maybe she escaped from it. Didn’t have to go through the shit my mom went through. The shit I’m going through.”

Elaine narrowed her eyes, leaning against the desk and keeping her voice hushed. “You told Penelope about the dagger, that you were supposed to be the owner of it. You didn’t know how bad it was going to be until she actually went after Allison.”

She could imagine Jason shaking her head in denial. “It wasn’t supposed to- I didn’t _know_. Ally was never supposed to get hurt.”

“Ignorance is bliss,” Elaine replied quietly. “You were addicted to her. But you tried to make things right, didn’t you? You wanted to sell the dagger, get it away from Penelope and the Nguyens, throw away the family curse. You must have never met Arthur’s new family before. Allison never knew that you were her stepfather’s son.”

“I-”

“Except for Margaux. Margaux knew because Penelope wanted her more.”

Jason’s hurt silence answered her question and Elaine’s hand clenched around the phone handle. She had been right – Allison may have been missing, but only from anyone who wasn’t Jason or Margaux. There was something remarkable about the lengths he had gone to protect his latest girlfriend and to rid his family of a cursed dagger, but she wondered if it had been too little, too late. And Jason’s ego had been bruised by Penelope’s rejection – he had been too careless, manipulated right into a trap that would have eliminated all three of them and left Penelope with a very dangerous and very powerful ritual weapon.

The only thing Elaine wondered about was Penelope and the way that manipulation played out. Thomas had vouched for his cousin’s honesty and her less-than-skilled strategies. Everything had been set up so wonderfully – Elaine was almost inclined to think that Penelope _wasn’t_ the one pulling the strings on the case.

 _Or I’m just overthinking it._ She rubbed at her eyes. Jason was saying something. Elaine shook her head to clear her thoughts to make it out: “Do you have the dagger?” There was a breathless, terse quality to his voice.

“Is Allison alive?”

“She’s out of the ICU. She’ll be okay.”

Elaine thought about that for a moment. She thought about Allison’s plea to help her, her own long-standing friendship with Arthur that still hadn’t been enough for him to tell her the truth, Jason’s desperation to escape his family curse...and then she thought about the trouble with Penelope, Harry’s insistence on finding the dagger, the trail of bodies left behind from the search for the dagger...

She closed her eyes. “Goodbye, Jason.”

“Wait-!”

Elaine held the phone back to the girl at the desk with a wan smile. “Thank you.” She ignored the receptionist’s chipper reply, heading past the milling crowd and the security to the warm and dry drop-off area just outside. Patrons and tourists stood around in clumps, dotted with the occasional well-dressed, red-cheeked bellhop, and cars, taxis, and limos pulled up under the main entrance. Pleasant conversation, car engines, and the everyday bustle of Las Vegas surrounded her.

It was bright and it was desert-dry and it was _normal_.

The case wasn’t entirely solved yet. There was still a lot to do, things she’d rather not have the White Council or Harry involved with. It would require time and patience, lots of it. She headed towards the end of the main entrance, flagging down a taxi that was preparing to pull off. The cabbie bristled at her from the front seat as she climbed in and she offered him an apologetic smile, forcing a bit of will behind her words. “I’m so sorry, but I’m in a bit of an emergency. Can you help me out?”

The cabbie’s glower softened a bit, just as she had intended. “Where to, miss?”

Elaine paused, silent for a few moments. Wordlessly, she slipped a narrow, silk-sheathed package from her purse, frowning at it as the veil she had placed on it when Thomas had been distracted by their conversation earlier slowly unraveled. The liquid-like silk fell slightly to reveal the silver gleam of steel, the intricate carving of the hilt and the guard - Juliet’s dagger, as alluring and deadly and infinitely bewildering as Arthur had said.

She wasn’t proud of the things she had done, but it was all part of a twisted and desperate game of survival. It kept her alive and it kept the nightmares at bay, and she would do it all over again if it meant that those two things would always be true. Even if she had to cheat, even if she had to lie. It would always be who she was, consequences and time be damned.

_But we all live with curses, don’t we?_

She looked back up at the cabbie who was peering at her through the rearview mirror.

“Amtrak station. I have a train to catch.”


End file.
